Strange Bedfellows
by The Immaterial Girl
Summary: "You can't be her because she wouldn't put me through this hell," Heero snapped through clenched teeth. "She wouldn't let me assume she was dead for ten years. The Relena Peacecraft I know wouldn't do that." Heero released her gruffly and she fell onto the ground, trembling. "Now who the hell are you?"
1. Prelude

**Title:** _Strange Bedfellows  
_**Genre:** _Action Comedy Drama_  
**Parings:** _Whew...this is going to get a little confusing, but I'll try to make it as succinct as possible: HYxOC, implied almost HYxRP, QWxOC, possible DMxOC and TBxOC_  
**Disclaimer:** _I do not own Gundam Wing or its characters or trademarks or anything you could make anything off of. So if you sue me, you're just gonna be wasting your time.  
_**Summary:** _Married couples have secrets, don't they? But if you're Mr. and Mrs. Yuy, the secrets are more wicked than mundane._

**AN:**_This is my first GW fic in a while, and I hope you all like it! I will go ahead and apologize if anyone seems OOC. You will probably notice that this story sort of resembles the movie_ Mr. and Mrs. Smith_, and it's true; I had intended on this to be a GW version of it when I started it two years ago (and subsequently dropped it). However, when I picked it back up recently, it took on a life all its own..._

* * *

**PRELUDE**

The sound of her heartbeats was punctuated by the sounds of gunfire as she ran up the stairs to the roof of the Johnson Continental Building. She had someone to catch, and she would be damned if she would lose her target now.

She was a skilled assassin, one of the highest paid in the business. For her it was a major triumph, being a highly regarded woman in a male-dominated field. She had dropped men where they stood without any warning, escaped from precarious situations were others would have found themselves dead. She was blessed with the right amount of devil-may-care recklessness, brute force, and mental cunning. It was something that her employer could not decide to love or hate. She herself decided it suited her just fine.

Most of her missions were cut-and-dry maneuvers that required little or no thought in the execution. By now, her planning and plotting were mostly instinctive. However, on this mission she had hit a major roadblock: another assassin from another firm. She wasn't quite vain enough (yet, anyway) to believe she was the best out there, but she knew that she was quite good, and this opposing assassin was just as good if not a little better than she was.

Her target had something that belonged to the assassin…and the assassin was not going to rest until she had it. It was then that she realized, as she ducked in time to avoid a bullet in her ear, that the man chasing her up the stairs was not vying for the prestige of killing the target—he was the _protector_.

_Fuck me!_ she swore in her mind as she slipped on a step. The man grabbed her ankle and tried to pull her down to his level. She kicked viciously with her other leg and was gratified to hear a grunt of pain as her boot collided with flesh. She climbed to her feet as the throbbing began in the knee that met with the concrete stair. She heard him stumble down a few steps as she pushed herself toward the door that led out to the building's roof. She burst through it with a bang, gripping her gun in her right hand.

With every step she took, her body quivered with over-exertion and pain. But she wasn't one to give up, and she was going to do what she came here to do even if it meant the death of her.

She raised the gun as the bare back of her target came into closer view. She aimed for the heart and squeezed the trigger…

But felt a bullet go through her instead.

The person turned at the sound of her hitting the ground, and she found herself face-to-face with her target. The target—who, at the moment, didn't seem like much of a target—stared down at her with wide eyes. Rapid footsteps rounded her prone body and she guessed that it had been her target's protector that had shot her. She swore under her breath tried to hold her grip on consciousness.

"What is going on—?" the target stuttered out.

She found herself lifting her head slowly to look at her opponent as his comely features began to look familiar, and he was doing the same thing. They assessed each other, and recognition came for them both simultaneously. Along with it came a sort of heavy dread and the sting of betrayal that overwhelmed the physical aches and pains.

"_Masako..."_ the man said, blue eyes wide.

While she felt the stone-cold shock coming from him, she was all hot-headed anger in black Lycra. As usual. "You have _got_ to be shitting me," she muttered.


	2. The First Session

**Author's Notes:** _In this chapter, you are going to meet Crys. She is not my character; she, along with her (and Heero's) back-story, is of my best friend Rachel's creation._ _In this sort of alternate universe, Crys and Heero were separated sometime in their childhood, and their father was the pacifist Heero Yuy. Heero's full name is Hiroshi, shortened to Heero, of course._

_By the way, if my portrayal of Valladolid, Spain, is off, I apologize!_

* * *

**I**

_**Six weeks earlier**_

In a cozy office in downtown Gracia, Dr. Isabelle Flannery stared at her two patients with apparent exasperation. In the chair on the left sat a man with dark brown hair and sharp blue eyes, dressed cannily in black and wearing an expression that was just as severe. His counterpart on the right was a vivacious woman with a raven mane and clothing in a brighter hue. They both appeared as if they were slightly anxious with the situation—and each other; the woman had her shapely legs crossed and one foot tapping in obvious impatience, and the man had his arms crossed over his chest. They sat facing her and at no point touched each other or shared any adoring glances. Isabelle pursed her lips together and made a note of this.

Over the glasses that sat on her elegant nose, Isabelle gazed at the couple with expectant slate-green eyes. They stared back as if waiting for her to say something. Isabelle quirked an eyebrow, miraculously keeping a straight face amid her growing frustration with the couple.

"So," Isabelle began, "I suppose we ought to begin the session now." She assessed them again then spoke. "If you don't mind me asking, did the both of you agree to marital counseling?"

"Yes," they answered in unison.

Isabelle folded her hands in her lap. _Interesting._ "Any reason why you think you would need marital counseling?"

The woman folded her hands in her lap. "We just needed to take out some time to do some fine-tuning on our marriage. After six years—"

"Five," the man corrected succinctly.

"After five, or six, years," the woman said smoothly, "things just need a little repair. You get into your own routine and forget that you're in a partnership. So we'd thought this would be a good way to amend our little imperfections."

"I see." Isabelle looked to the man, judging him as the harder one to crack. "Well, it is my honest belief, in order to fix the problems of the present, you must go back to the beginning. Mr. Yuy, could you tell me about the first time you saw your wife?"

Hiroshi Yuy, better known as Heero, merely said, without dropping his crossed-arm stance, "We met seven years ago—"

Daniella Thomas, or the current Mrs. Heero Yuy, flicked a glance at him without breaking statute either. "It was eight." Heero looked back at her. "It was actually eight years ago"—she added a tight smile for Isabelle's benefit—"darling."

Isabelle scribbled something then paused to tap her pen thoughtfully on the pad. "Do you remember where it was you met?"

Heero didn't hesitate in answering. Isabelle figured that he wanted to quickly be done with the interrogation so that he could return to, well, whatever life—or lack thereof—he had with his wife outside of Isabelle's office. "It was Madrid, during the spring—"

"Valladolid, actually," Danie corrected. "And it was early fall, dear. Don't you remember?"

Heero slanted a sideways look at his beautiful wife. Truth be told, it wasn't exactly a nice look. "Well, it seems that your memory is much better than mine, so maybe I should let you answer the questions."

Isabelle's eyebrows drew together at the underlying resentment in Heero's tone. Before she could speak, Danie responded, "No, darling, you're much better with the stories anyway." She looked to Isabelle. "He's a genius with stories. The stuff he tells me, you'd swear he was some sort of spy or something." Danie's laugh filled the room, and Isabelle watched intently Heero for his reaction. After a small glare, he merely grunted.

"Mr. Yuy," Isabelle said, "do you mind? With minimal"—she eyed Danie meaningfully—"interruption? I would love to hear the story."

* * *

_**Valladolid (or Madrid, maybe), Spain  
Seven (or maybe eight) years ago**_

_They met on a cool day that invited leisure out from its summer (or winter) confines. Heero had been with his twin sister, eschewing all enjoyment of the cool breeze by keeping a close eye on her—and all of the guys who admired her slim body clad in jeans and long-sleeved top. Even though she was now legally an adult, Heero still kept a tight hold on Crys. She was the only family he had, and he would not stand to lose her, no matter how much she balked. For him, the stranglehold was the ultimate declaration of love._

_At that moment, Crys walked beside him, rosy and content after a nice meal of_lechazo_with salad and fine wine. Or at least that was what Crys let her brother think; in actuality, Crys was still aglow from a text message she had received from the man she loved—but Heero would gut him if he knew about it, so Crys kept that little tidbit to herself._

"_So I am still trying to figure out why you dragged me all the way out to Spain for a week," Crys said. "As beautiful as it is, we could have stayed at home."_

_Heero raised an eyebrow at her. The truth was he was there for a job that he had to do later on that night when Crys was sleeping—but he wasn't about to admit that. "And there is something that is more important at home, Crys?"_

_Crys tried not to let on that she was thinking about Quatre and instead turned up the indignation. "Is that your way of asking me if I have a boyfriend?"_

_Heero turned sharp eyes upon his twin. "Well, do you?"_

_Crys shoved him. "Stay out of my business, Heero. Even if I did, it wouldn't matter." Before Heero could refute that statement, Crys added, "I think we should be more worried about you."_

"_I disagree."_

_Crys could only laugh as they sidestepped a Spanish couple talking rapidly in clipped tones. "Heero, for God's sake, lighten up. I had hoped this vacation you had invited me out for would show me that you've changed, but you're still the same."_

"_What? I can't want to spend time with my sister?"_

_Crys looked at him dubiously. "You have an ulterior motive, Heero, whether you'll admit it or not. I'd think I'd see pigs fly if you didn't have a reason for bringing me out here."_

"_Like I said," Heero said tightly, "I wanted to spend some time with you. We haven't seen each other that much the last few months."_

_Crys sighed. "I know." She crossed her arms over her chest. "You know, if you don't like your job at the firm, why don't you quit? It takes you all over the place for some stupid computers and I rarely ever see you."_

"_Well, my job is very important," Heero told her. "It keeps you safe."_

_Crys frowned, not understanding what Heero meant but know it did mean something he wasn't telling her. It came to no surprise to her that he had secrets—after all, he was Heero Yuy—but she wondered what his big secret was, and if it was honestly so weighty and important that he had to keep it from her._

"_I still think you could work closer to home and still keep me safe," Crys pointed out._

"_What, so I can see you and Quatre Winner fawning all over each other?"_

_Crys's Prussian blue eyes widened for a moment before they narrowed in the infamous Yuy death glare. "How did you know—?"_

"_I know much more than you think I do, sister." He gestured to her purse. "Especially about that cell phone that Quatre gave you to stay in touch."_

_They walked along for a few humming moments as Crys tried to ascertain how Heero felt about this and Heero himself tried to stifle his loneliness. He didn't want Crys to know about it; he had tried for most of their lives to protect her, even to the point that he locked her away when he went off on a mission (not telling her what he was really doing of course). They had fought over it—she had even threatened at times not to talk to him ever again for keeping such a tight grip on her—but as he sunk deeper into his job, that vise-like grasp began to loosen. Crys was thankful, but she also felt a bit of sadness, for Heero was not as good at keeping his feelings secret as he thought he was._

_Before Crys could say something on the subject, a tall, raven-haired woman in a cropped white racer-back tank underneath a denim jacket and a flowing skirt was walking quickly toward them. Her eyes were hid behind dark glasses, so it was not clear where she was looking, though it was very clear to Heero that she wasn't watching where she was going._

_A moment later, a group of guys came tearing around the corner toward the woman. One grabbed her arm roughly and the others crowded around menacingly. Crys's eyes widened and her face fell into a mask of indignation. Heero knew what she was going to do before she did and tried to restrain her._

"_Dammit, Heero—" Crys began._

"_This isn't your business," Heero told her firmly, trying to steer her away. "I'm sure the girl can take care of herself."_

"_Like hell!" Crys exclaimed and shook herself from his grasp. "What if they hurt her and we do nothing about it? How would you feel then?"_

_Before Heero could hold her back any longer, Crys swung away from him and toward the stand-off. "Hey!" she yelled loudly, shifting the guys' attention. "Let her go right now."_

_Heero cursed under his breath as one of the dark-haired guys snorted at Crys. He dimly admired his sister's courage, but it reared its ugly head at the most inopportune moments. "Stay out of our business,_chiquita_," the guy said in a heavily-accented voice. "What happens to this_puta_is none of your business."_

"_Hey!" exclaimed the woman. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't call me vulgar names, thank you."_

"_What I call you should be the least of your concerns now," the man growled. "I'd be worried about whether or not I let you live if I were you."_

"_Thank God you're not me," the woman shot back. "I'd hate to see you prancing around here in a pair of my Ferragamos with those alligator feet of yours."_

_The man started to go for the woman's throat perhaps in hopes of shutting her up, but he underestimated Crys's indignation; Crys swung out with rather haphazardly forceful aim, and the blow caught the guy in the ribs. The others were so stunned that it took their ringleader shouting out an order to "take care of that puta" for them to jump into action._

"_Goddammit Crys—" Heero groaned, and pushed her out of the way before she could get hurt. With lethal accuracy, Heero subdued two of the thugs and they fell out, unconscious. After she got over her own initial shock, the woman struck out herself, delivering an effective left jab that had her near-attacker staggering. She followed up with a right cross to his chin that made his teeth knock together. She whirled on her heel and found herself face-to-face with an incensed Heero Yuy._

_They stared at each other for a long moment before Danie ducked into La Mina nearby. Calling after her, Crys tried to catch up and Heero had no choice but to follow her into the semi-busy restaurant._

_They found her quickly, sitting on her own with a glass of wine. Crys walked up to her and spoke before Heero could even open his mouth. "Ohmigod!" she cried breathlessly. "You have got to show me how you did that! My brother won't even teach me how to properly throw a punch." She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at her other half. "I'm starting to think he doesn't want me to know how to defend myself."_

"_You don't need to know how to fight," Heero told her. "I'm here to protect you."_

"_But you can't be everywhere every time," the woman pointed out. "What happens if someone attacks her and you're not there? Let me guess," she added when Heero started to speak, "you've thought of this already and are planning on locking her inside of a bulletproof room whenever she has to be out of your sight for any length of time."_

"_Been there, done that," Crys revealed. "But you forgot the motion detectors." Heero slid a glare her way, but she just stuck out her tongue at him._

_The woman laughed. "You're just as bad as me and my sisters." She placed the wine aside and held out her hand. "I'm Danie Thomas, by the way. And thanks for coming to my rescue."_

"_The name's Crys Yuy." Crys jerked a thumb in her brother's direction after shaking Danie's hand. "And this is my twin Heero. You'll have to forgive him. He makes it his life's goal to act like a social pariah."_

"_I wouldn't have guessed that, not at all." She paused for a moment. "I know I've only met you two a second ago, but I would appreciate it greatly if you had dinner with me. I'm all alone here, and…"_

_Crys flashed Danie a bright smile as she grabbed her brother's arm. Since they were telepathically linked, she could feel his refusal even before it came out of his mouth. "Would you excuse us?"_

_Danie only blinked as Crys dragged Heero some feet away where Danie was out of earshot. The highlights in her dark blonde hair jumped out under the intimate lighting in La Mina and reminded Heero how different they were. He was dark, and she was blessedly, miraculously light. A part of him wanted to please her, to give in to her every request, but the other part of him knew that he could not be that indulgent. If his sister was to remain pure, he had to protect her from all evils—even ones that had not shown themselves yet. Wickedness could be like a virus, and Heero didn't want his twin around this Danie Thomas if there was the slim chance that she could infect his sister, so to speak._

_Even more, deep down inside, he wondered what sort of conversation he could have with such a beautiful woman like Danie…_

"_No," Heero said, not even giving Crys a chance to ask and breaking himself from his thoughts. "We're not staying."_

"_Heero—please?" Crys begged. "We're just keeping her company is all. And if something suspicious does happen, you can jump in, kick ass, and save the day. You're the best at that." Pause. Heero didn't seem moved. Crys decided to change tactics and appeal to the soldier side of him. "I know you're not scared, are you? Because you're acting like you're not capable of sitting down and—"_

"_Let's get this over with," Heero interrupted. As he walked past her, Crys did a small gesture of triumph before she turned around and followed him._

* * *

"And that's the story of how you met," Isabelle remarked, scrawling her impressions of the way the story was told and the story itself on her pad.

"It's probably not the most romantic, but the story is ours," Danie said, earning a glance from Heero.

"What happened next?" Isabelle inquired. "I'm assuming there was another connection point that led you two to the conclusion that you were attracted to each other or even could spend the rest of your lives together."

For a spell there was nothing but silence. Then Heero commented simply, "I think you'd better tell this part, Danie."

Danie cackled, a sound Jeff Murdoch would have dubbed a head laugh. "Oh, nonsense. You're the storyteller, dear. Isn't he doing a fine job so far?" She declared to Isabelle.

Isabelle had many fancy degrees hanging on the walls of her office, had traveled to all seven continents at least once, had even had a stint singing on Broadway (a rather over-rated experience), and still the only word she word on her pad for this was _**Bullshit**_.

"Do you mind, Mr. Yuy?" Isabelle asked, sighing.

"Not at all," Heero replied, though his tone of voice indicated that he did mind. Isabelle pursed her lips together and listened.

* * *

_Later on that night, Heero left Crys sleeping in their room at the Hotel Imperial. He turned off the TV as the credits rolled on_ Center Stage_, knowing that Crys would sleep heavily until morning. That helped him with the thought of leaving her, even though he knew she was perfectly safe in the hotel._

_He pulled the blanket up to her chin before grabbing his gun. After taking one last look at her, he slipped from the room without making so much as a creak on the floor. When he was walking through the lobby of the Imperial, he slipped and earpiece in his ear, and the encrypted phone in his pocket vibrated, signaling a new phone call. He knew who that was._

"_I'm leaving now," Heero said without preamble._

"_I thought you'd be almost there by now," came the jovial male voice on the other end. "Let me guess: Crys cornered you with another movie marathon."_

"_She doesn't know why we're here," Heero reminded him. "And if I have it my way, she never will. Do you have any new information on Firestar that I could possibly use?"_

"_Nothing yet, buddy. We're hoping the package will have the papers our source said it would. I would have hated to send you out all the way to Spain for bullshit, you know?"_

"_You're not the only one." Heero came to his transportation for the evening: a black sporty coupe. He pushed a button and the locks unlatched with a click. He got into the car smoothly and closed the door in one swift movement. "I'll contact you when I have the package."_

"_I'll be waiting. Just try and make sure you don't get yourself hurt this time, okay?"_

"_I won't make any promises," Heero admitted and ended the call. He started the car then roared off into the night without a backward glance._

_His destination was la Iglesia de San Pablo where he was supposed to pick up a package from the source who had claimed to have information about the ruthless assassin only known as Firestar. The assassin had supposedly killed the pacifist politician Relena Peacecraft and her brother Millardo, and, as time went by, the rumors seemed to become fact. Heero and his associates had been commissioned with the investigation and termination of the assassin known as Firestar, and the investigation had already taken eighteen months. It had felt like the longest eighteen months of his life._

_Heero parked his car a block or two away from San Pablo, lucky that there weren't that many people out this time of night. He walked the remainder of the way to the church, staying aware of his surroundings. He didn't sense anyone dangerous, but that didn't mean trouble wouldn't show itself. He was smart enough to know that the mission wasn't going to be quite complete when he walked out of San Pablo alive, but at least then a big hurdle would have been conquered._

_The front door was unlocked, so he let himself inside. Candlelight flickered in the vast, beautiful emptiness, and it took a few moments for Heero's eyes to adjust. He recalled the location of the pew where the packaged would be taped underneath, silently counted pews._

_When he got to the right one, he dropped down the ground. He felt along the bottom of the aged wood until his fingertips brushed a box. He clasped the box and ripped it from the adhesive that kept it attached to the pew. It was the size of a box of Jell-O and just as light. Could it be possible that redemption came in a box this small? For all he knew, there could be a brooch hiding in there and not his precious information. It could be anything. He resisted the urge to rip the package to shreds to get what was on the inside; he wanted to burn the packaging himself when he was alone, and he wasn't about to do that here._

_With the cardboard package in his hand, he looked up at the grand figure of the Blessed Virgin Mary, transfixed for a moment by her beauty and serenity. He almost offered up a prayer, but figured it would be foolhardy. What could a prayer do at this rate?_

_Thinking of nothing but completing his mission, Heero took the package and walked out of the church._

_On the way back to the hotel, Heero glanced in his rearview mirror and saw a car as dark as his own trailing him. It had been there for several blocks, and he decided to be cautious and assume it was a threat. He sped up a little. The other driver did the same. Setting his mouth in a firm line, put the car in a higher gear and stomped on the gas. The coupe's engine protested slightly, but the car went from forty-two to seventy in one and a quarter second._

_Heero was not able to elude the person for long; within ten seconds and a strange curve on la Plaza de San Miguel, the person was on Heero's bumper._

"_Shit," Heero cursed under his breath. The person fell back for a moment only to give him a body-jarring bump a moment later. Eyes stormy blue, Heero pushed the car up to eighty five and skidded left onto la Calle de San Benito. His pursuer took a more precarious skid but still kept up. Heero maneuvered the rocketing car down San Benito with a little room for mistake; the road was tricky and his assailant obviously knew the road better than he did._

"_You are not going to catch me," Heero said to the car in his rearview._

_Time seemed to slow at that moment, going in agonizing drips. Heero's sight fixated upon the figure in the car behind him, recognizing a woman's face. His mind worked to place the features amid the duress of working his way down San Benito, and he lost mental grip on his driving. The woman slammed him hard one more time, and Heero's coupe was thrown into a skid. He felt himself losing control of the car, and time came to a jarring halt when he crashed into a tree at eighty five miles per hour._

_After several moments, Heero willed himself out of entropy. He was hurt, and quite badly, but, as he assessed himself, it would have been worse. The car had been made of reinforced steel, so it was a bit more durable than consumer vehicles and had protected him from a nastier crash. Still, he knew he couldn't stay there long. He could smell the gas and the smoke that whispered of a fire nearby. Finding some deep-down strength, Heero wrenched the car door open and fell out into the street. He dragged himself out on his elbows until his feet were freed. On his hands and knees on broken glass, Heero forced himself to stand, and gritted his teeth against the searing pain. He should be dead, he told himself, but somehow he was not._

_The package was now flattened against him where it had been hiding under his black shirt, and his eyes darkened at the realization._

_When the gas and the growing fire found each other, the coupe exploded in a million pieces, and Heero was sure that the fireball that rocketed up to the sky was seen from miles away. He inwardly cursed as he thought about the fact that the package was ruined and his mission was so blatantly incomplete._

_And then, as if the Heavens above wanted to throw him a tall, vivacious curveball, Danie Thomas appeared out of nowhere._

"_Holy fucking shit," she breathed in awe, the firelight reflected in her eyes. A group of tourists who had been on their way back to their hotels from the various restaurants in the area fled in the direction of the fire, curious about what had happened. Danie hesitated when she saw Heero limping toward her, and confusion flitted across her appealing features before she spoke. "Hey—what the hell are you doing out here?" she demanded. "And why are you limping like that?"_

"_I would appreciate it if you stayed out of my business," Heero said tersely. He suddenly wished he had prayed before leaving San Pablo._

"_It's a little hard not to notice a man limping down the street at the dead of night," Danie shot back. "I'm gonna take a wild guess and say that was your car that turned into a two-ton firecracker back there."_

"_I'm fine. Go home or wherever it is you came from."_

_No sooner were the words out of his mouth did his knees buckle. Danie muttered an expletive and caught him under the armpits, surprised at his weight. He was lanky and seemed slight, but she supposed that perhaps he was made of more muscle than she could see._

"_All right, where are you staying?" Danie grunted, trying to shift his weight in her grasp so that he would be easier to carry._

"_Hotel Imperial," Heero mumbled. "But I can get there by myself…"_

"_Yeah right," Danie countered. "And Hanson can sing the blues." She rose to her feet and carried him over her shoulder. She had a couple unsteady moments before walking forward._

_He didn't remember much until he found himself in his hotel room, lying on top of the freshly made bed. He could smell the lingering scent of the popcorn Crys had consumed during their movie marathon mixed with his sister's signature perfume and another vaguely familiar smell. The tang of blood._

_With a groan, Heero shifted, testing his range of motion. He found that his knee was stiff from the injury he had sustained, but he could fix that in a little while. His other senses appraised the room and felt two other people near him. His eyebrows furrowed as he remembered Danie—then his twin. Two?_

_He opened his eyes abruptly and found Danie standing over him with her thumbs hooked in her belt loops—and Crys assaulting him with the patented Yuy glare._

"**Where were you?"**_Crys wanted to know, enunciating each word until they came from her lips like three verbal blows._

"_I just needed some air," Heero responded. "You were sleeping. I didn't want to bother you."_

_Crys's face contorted with fury. "A walk? At_midnight_? Hiroshi Yuy, I oughta—"_

_Sensing the heightened emotions from both of them, Danie placed an arm on Crys's vibrating shoulder. "Crys—I would yell at him later, preferably when it's daylight and everyone else around you is awake. And make it good. But you both need sleep now."_

_Heero braced himself. There was no telling what Crys would do in her enraged state. He knew that he had a bad temper, but there were moments that his sister simply outgunned him. She could be downright terrifying sometimes. He knew she could say the same of him sometimes, but it was a part of their bond._

_And perhaps, because of that, Crys took one, long considering look at her brother and stood down. "In the morning then," Crys promised, the heat in her voice rapidly cooling. "But you've got some explaining to do!"_

"_Then I'll leave you two," Danie said with a nod. Her gaze lingered on Heero a moment before she patted Crys's shoulder. There was a bit of curiosity there along with something else Heero couldn't read. "Good night."_

"_Good night, Danie. And thank you."_

"_Anytime." With that, Danie showed herself out, leaving her fiery presence and freesia scent in her wake._

_Once Danie had closed the door behind her, Crys crashed onto the bed next to her brother. For a while, they just stared at the ceiling silently, trying to figure out what exactly what to say to each other. As anger faded, and the duo became wrapped up in their togetherness, Crys exhaled._

"_Are you going to shower in the morning?" Crys asked._

"_Yes."_

"_We're burning those clothes. They reek to high heaven."_

"_Agreed."_

"_Oh yeah, and another thing. If you ever leave me like that ever again, I'm gonna make you wish you were never born to wreak this kind of havoc on my nerves,_capice_?"_

_Heero closed his eyes as fatigue washed over him again. "Duly noted."_

* * *

After Heero finished, Isabelle sat for a moment, taking it in. She took off her glasses and set them aside before speaking.

"Very interesting circumstances," Isabelle remarked idly. "Did you see each other again?"

"Crys and I kept in touch, and it turned out that my cousin Jennifer lived near them," Danie explained. "So Crys asked me to come over and visit. And one day, I suppose…" Danie looked sidelong at her husband, something inexplicable in her eyes. Isabelle noted this. "We got used to each other."

"So it seems to me that your sister was instrumental in bringing you two together, Mr. Yuy," Isabelle observed. "Tell me, what does she think of the current state of things?"

* * *

_**A few days ago, present day.**_

_Crys laid the wooden stirring spoon down with a snap, blue eyes blazing. Her distended belly was visible from under the pristine white apron she wore over her around-the-house clothes, and Heero wondered how Quatre let her into the kitchen while she was pregnant. She was supposed to be resting, especially since she was six-and-a-half months pregnant with twins (a fact that Heero didn't hesitate in pointing out to Quatre every chance he got)._

"_That damned Danie!" Crys exclaimed angrily. "I'm going to kick her ass for making you unhappy."_

_Oh yeah. Right. He had almost forgotten about her_temper_._

"_Calm down, Crys," Heero cautioned firmly. He had a horrifying vision of his sister suddenly telling him her water was broken. He wasn't ready for that yet. "You're in a delicate state."_

"_I'll show you delicate state, Heero Yuy! And that wife of yours!" Heero sighed, shaking his head in disbelief. "Have you even attempted to tell her how you feel about things? Maybe she doesn't realize that something's wrong. Though, that wouldn't seem to be a surprise to me since you two fell into this way too fast."_

_Heero eyed her unwaveringly. "What are you trying to say? Are you trying to say I made a mistake?"_

_Crys paused, her fingertips over the wooden spoon. "Do you really want to know what I think?"_

"_Even if I don't, you're going to tell me anyway."_

_Crys's eyes narrowed at that little jab but dismissed it—for now. She picked up the spoon and beat at the brownie mix again. There were a few lumps she hadn't quite eradicated yet, and she needed the exertion. "In my opinion, she's your total opposite. She speaks when you don't, she is hot where you're cold, she's flashy where you are quite minimal. She is definitely not the woman I would have imagined you spending the rest of your life with."_

"_No," Heero murmured, thinking of a blond woman—and the elusive assassin who had ended her life. "She's not what I imagined either."_

"_But you picked her for a reason. It may not be totally clear now, but I'm sure that you had one. Heero Yuy never does anything without a reason." Crys shifted to grab the brownie pan. "And I hope that reason is something you can live with. If not, you've been living a lie for five years."_

"_Or six," Heero said automatically. Crys gave him a look. "What?"_

"_You don't now how utterly awful it is that you can't remember how long it is you've been married, Heero."_

_Heero raised an eyebrow at her. "Can you?"_

"_Six years, eight months, fifteen days, eleven hours, and thirteen minutes." She beamed triumphantly at her glowering brother. "So_there_."_

_Heero merely said, "Showoff."_


	3. Not Quite Another Day at Work

**II**

"It is my honest opinion that this will do nothing but help the relationship between you two," Isabelle remarked after Heero finished his narrative. "Don't think of therapy as a sign that things have failed—think of it more as scheduled maintenance. Every now and again, we need to reveal our feelings in a structured environment." She eyed the both before speaking again. "Do you keep any secrets from one another?"

Heero didn't blink. Isabelle figured he could probably lie about the sky being blue without batting an eyelash. Danie just mustered up a slightly abashed look as if Isabelle's question was preposterous.

"Secrets? No, we don't have any secrets from each other."

Heero slid another look in Danie's direction, and she seemed to feel it. "I beg to differ."

"Well, we all have secrets we keep from one another," Danie amended smoothly. "Doesn't everyone? But I don't think that's the problem."

"Hmm," Isabelle murmured. _Really?_ she thought incredulously. With that remark, she made another "Bullshit" note. She glanced at the clock on the wall behind Danie and Heero and closed her leather binder. It was time to bring their session to a close. "I suppose that's something to begin next week's session with."

* * *

Both Heero and Danie would not readily admit it, but their lives had become vastly different from five—or six—years ago when they had gotten caught up in the moment of meeting one another. Now, even as they both dressed for work, there were no affectionate pats or amorous glances at the other in various states of dress, just stiff conversation as a thin sheen over lack of affection.

Danie stood at one basin in front of the large mirror in the luxurious bathroom, her robe loosely belted in the front. At the other sink, Heero, on the other hand, was very nearly dressed in dark slacks and a white tank that showed off his highly toned arms. Heero flossed his teeth neatly as Danie gargled noisily.

A little bothered, Heero slid his deep blue eyes in her direction long enough for her to meet his gaze in the mirror. The sloppy gurgling stopped. Danie shrugged and spit it into the sink.

"Kristana's birthday party is tomorrow night," Heero said as Danie screwed the cap more tightly on the mouthwash. "Crys said that she would love it if we were both there." Danie set down the mouthwash with a soft bang, and the cap rattled a bit. Heero frowned as Danie turned away and slipped out of her robe, revealing the black lace underneath. Heero glared at her back, screwing the cap tighter on the bottle and swooping up her robe in two swift movements.

"I'll see what I can do," Danie called from the closet. "I have to be in New York at noon and hopefully I'll be back tomorrow afternoon. We've got a meeting with some possible shareholders that just makes my eyes cross to think about."

"Crys won't forgive you if you miss this."

Danie stuck her head out of the closet for a moment with her right eyebrow cocked. "Yeah, I know." She disappeared back into the closet. "If I don't know your sister by now, Heero, then I must be dumber than I look."

Heero dropped Danie's silken robe on its designated hook and stepped into the closet himself. Danie was now clad in a gray plaid pencil skirt and a black bra, and she was internally debating over blazers to wear. There had been a time where he would have come up behind her and kissed her on the neck, but now he just went to his portion of the closet for a dress shirt, his back to her.

"Did you get the present?"

Danie paused over a royal purple blazer, frowning. "I thought it was your turn to get the present."

Heero quickly shifted back over his memories of the past year…and figured out that Danie was right. It was his turn to buy Kristana's present. Letting out a breath through his nostrils, Heero picked out a pewter shirt to wear for the day. He didn't even glance at the label; the designer was meaningless to him. Danie, on the other hand, seemed to covet labels and the prestige that came with wearing them. He supposed that she was entitled being the executive assistant to one of the richest men in the world to her expensive style.

"I'll get it," Heero promised, thinking of the right person to ask. "Don't worry."

Danie finally selected a red blazer with black buttons to wear for the day. She slipped it on and bent over to select Ferragamo pumps in the same hue. She slipped into them and strode out while buttoning her blazer. She fixed her hair with the jeweled clip that Heero had given her for their second anniversary. Heero noticed the choice but thought nothing else of it. It could have just was well been a paper clip for all of the sentiment that Heero felt at the moment.

"Good. I should be done with that stupid meeting in time." She turned to him, and the Daniella Thomas who could wheedle the Devil out of his very soul—if he had one—revealed herself. "Meet you here at seven and we'll drive there together?"

"On the dot," Heero said as he decided not to wear a tie today.

"Splendid." She walked over and gave Heero a perfunctory kiss on the cheek before grabbing a travel bag and her purse. "See ya."

"Bye, Danie." Heero couldn't help watching her as she strode away in her graceful model's lope. A warmness settled deep inside of him, but it was so sequestered that it was promptly extinguished like a small flame in a cold, windy room.

A few minutes later, he turned out all of the lights and left the house.

* * *

Heero arrived at the thirty-three story high-rise that housed the home offices of the Winner Corporation a mere fifteen minutes after leaving his house with Danie on the outskirts of town. He passed by the front desk on the first floor without stopping or greeting anyone; by now the sight of Heero Yuy strolling into work was a rather mundane sight, and he liked to keep it that way.

He boarded the elevator going upward along with four others. He didn't press a button for there was no number for the floor he was stopping upon. As far as the others knew, he was just getting off on some unknown floor. But they were too afraid of losing their jobs to ask. There had been those in the past who had inquired about the secret 33rd floor, and word had gotten back to Mr. Winner himself. It always did. There were rumors about what had happened to the last unlucky gentleman, but so far there had been no evidence to support the claims.

So, in that, what Heero Yuy did for a living was truthfully known by six other people. If there were more, Heero didn't know about them. But it was his honest opinion that no one else knew—because the other six would be summarily dispatched, and they liked their lives too much.

When he was alone in the elevator, Heero waited until the doors came together, then pulled out a special key that opened up a concealed panel. The buttons for the regular floors disappeared, sliding away to reveal a palm print scanner.

"_Please verify your voice print for identification,"_ said the melodious automated female voice.

Heero placed his right hand on the scanner and spoke his name clearly and succinctly. After a moment, the voice told him, _"Voice print verified. Good morning, Heero. Stand by for retinal and body scan."_

Heero did so without complaint or any discomfort. He understood that this was merely part of securing the rest of the world from knowing the things he did. It kept them safe. The innocent people needed to be safe, and the corrupt people didn't need any access to their secret little world. It was enough that they existed in the first place. He, Duo, and their friends Quatre Winner, Trowa Barton, and Wufei Chang made up the Wild Wing Agency (the name was Nicole's idea, put into effect a month after she was hired), and their sole existence relied on those who still terrorized the world with malicious acts. Heero had sworn he would never kill again, and so far, he hadn't—that is, until the last job they had taken on.

Heero was cleared within two minutes. The controls whirled as it brought him to the top floor, and when the elevator stopped, Heero found himself in a long white hallway where he endured another scan to ensure that he wasn't carrying any unauthorized weapons and positively identify him was one of the boys, as Nicole would tease.

As the secretary in this clandestine venture, twenty-three-year-old Nicole Smith was the sixth person entrusted with the knowledge of their agency and for that she had her employers' immense respect. Heero would never admit this, however. She was way too annoying, and he was sure it would swell her head. He didn't want to be responsible for that.

As usual, Nicole was fashionably dressed and impeccably coiffed, her long, dark hair (no weave, she'd tell you if you were bold enough to ask) pulled back from her face to reveal diamonds and oval-shaped tanzanites twinkling at her ears (a birthday gift from Quatre Winner, who was obviously too nice for his own good). She was in the middle of a call when Heero strode up, her expression indicating that she was dealing with yet another irritating customer.

"Yes, Mrs. Casey, I'll give you a call… No, I'm sorry, you cannot talk to Mr. Maxwell. He is unavailable." Nicole went silent at that moment, but her face changed into an expression Heero could only shake his head at. It was her _Excuse me?_ look. When she spoke again, she went from mild-mannered, steely polite receptionist to street-talking, head-twisting black chick. "Look, do you _want_me to come up to your house and bust a cap off in your ass lift? I've got your address so don't play with me. I said you _can't_ talk to him. That means you _can't_." Pause. "Okay, say goodbye then. Damn." With a roll of her brown eyes and an abundance of attitude, she jabbed a button with a French-manicured finger and ended the call. Shaking her head in dismay, she expelled a breath and noticed Heero coming near.

She greeted him grudgingly, but Heero didn't take it personally. "Morning, Heero."

"Good morning, Nicole. Any calls?"

Nicole gestured toward his box as she pulled out a couple of investigation requests she had to screen. "You got a couple of calls about the Mallone job. Just a check-back I guess, but I honestly wouldn't even bother calling back." She eyed him meaningfully for a moment. "But I know you will anyway, even if it isn't important."

Heero retrieved the papers in his box and didn't say anything to that. The Mallone job had taken up too much of his time and energy, and even Nicole had noticed the toll it had taken on him. The investigation into the apparent rape of the teenage daughters of famous politicians had brought back some horrid memories of the rape of someone close to him. Nicole with her nosy self just plain stayed away from Heero for a week after the investigation was done and the then-unconvicted perpetrator was dispatched. She didn't want for Quatre to have to explain to her mama about how there had been an "accident" because of Heero Yuy's itchy trigger finger.

"Nicole? I need a favor from you."

Nicole looked up from her work and stared at him knowingly. "You want me to buy Kristana's birthday present, don't you?"

Heero blinked at her, surprised she would remember. "How did you…?"

Nicole snorted out a laugh. It took a lot to surprise him. "Heero, I'm not slow. Quatre's been talking about the birthday party for like the past six months. You'd have to be blind, deaf, and dumb or something to miss it. And I know for a fact that Danie bought the present last year. Remember?"

Truthfully last year's birthday party was a pink-bombed, sugar-coated, twinkle-lighted blur. He could barely remember what happened last year except for the towering cake fashioned in the shape of a castle and Crys nearly impaling Duo to keep him away from it. But some form of that happened every year so that was easy to forget.

As if on cue, Duo Maxwell sauntered out of his office with a sugared donut in one hand and a mug of coffee in the other. Heero could sense Nicole's irritation without even looking at her. It was like radiation from the sun—which also meant he could only be in its path for a short time before it began to affect him.

"You better not get sugar on my desktop," Nicole snapped. "I just cleaned up from the time you decided you were gonna have éclairs for breakfast _and_ lunch. Now your stupid ass wanna come up in here with some _more _shit? I ain't got Alice written on my forehead, so if you end up throwing that shit up you better get a mop."

"And good morning to you, too, Nicole," Duo said, not sounding in the least bit hurt.

"I'm just telling you. Don't start nothing, won't be nothing."

"I didn't come out here to listen to you complain, Nicole," Duo explained, his tone as jovial as ever. He turned to his friend and greeted him. "Morning, Heero. How are things in Yuy Land?"

"However you think, Duo," Heero responded vaguely.

Duo took a messy bite of donut and nearly gave Nicole a massive stroke. "You know, if I had your wife, Heero, I'd be walking around looking much happier than you do now. You look like someone just wiped your hard drive and torched your backup disks."

Nicole fisted her hand on her hip and cocked her right eyebrow at Duo. "Duo," she began in what they called her Mama tone where one word became a warning.

"What? Damn—I can't talk to my best friend?"

"Not when it looks like he's gonna stuff that donut down your throat. Oh," Nicole added, jabbing a ballpoint in Duo's direction, "and another thing. If Mrs. Casey calls up here again asking for you again, I'm gonna hang you on that coat hook over there by your boxer shorts. Read me?" The phone rang at that moment, diverting Nicole's attention. Duo walked away, muttering under his breath, and disappeared into the bathroom. Heero, on the other hand, decided it was time to lock himself away in the confines of his office away from questions and prying eyes.

"I know something's wrong. You can't hide it from me."

Heero looked up warily at the sight of Duo leaning on the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest. "Duo, you should stay out of it."

"See—here's the thing: I can't." Duo stood upright and walked up to Heero's desk. "You and I have been friends for far too long for me to ignore the fact that you're unhappy. I know you're not the type to walk around singing 'Zippity-Do-Da' when things are especially awesome, but you seem like you're dreading something, and I think Danie is that something." After a thoughtful pause, Duo asked, "She's not cheating on you is she?"

"No, she is not," Heero responded tightly. Though, he couldn't be too sure. She had been away from home as much as he had been these days, and something about the nature of her work—whatever it was that Takeshi Arashi subjected her to—had caused her to become withdrawn and overly secretive. From his vantage point, something—or someone—was hurting her and she wasn't sharing it with him.

"She'd better not be cheating on you, though," Duo was saying, "because Crys would tear her into a million Danie pieces, and then Quatre would have put back together so he could make her suffer for putting more stress on his wife."

"My sister doesn't need to worry about my marriage, and neither do you," Heero told him. "Danie and I are working through our problems."

"Ah _ha_!" Duo said triumphantly and pointed at him, making Heero wince at his words. "So you admit it—you _are_ having problems! It's a shame, too, because she seemed so happy to marry you—and you were finally getting laid regular."

Heero's eyes darkened. "Duo—" At that moment, Heero's phone beeped, signaling a page from one of the other phones in the office. The light for location 06 lit up. _Nicole's desk._ "Yes, Nicole?"

When she spoke she sounded slightly befuddled. "Um, Heero? There's someone on line one who is very insistent on speaking to you. The person wouldn't tell me why or who they were."

Thoughts of Danie and Duo's prodding forgotten, Heero put his hand on the receiver. "I'll take care of it. Thank you, Nicole." Pushing the button to take line one, Heero said abruptly, "This is Heero Yuy."

"_Mr. Yuy, I have a message for you."_

Heero shared a look with Duo. Duo mouthed for him to put the call on speakerphone, but Heero gave a quick shake of his head and pushed another button to record and trace the call. "A message? About what?"

"_The truth will set you free,"_ said the mysterious voice which sounded neither male nor female. It was Heero's guess that it was being digitally altered.

"What truth? Who will it set free?" Heero pressed, mind racing to place the voice or the circumstance of which he or she spoke.

"_Vengeance will open the door to the suppressed, and conjecture will breed misapprehension, but the truth will set you free. Mark my words, Heero Yuy. Or you will lose the thing that you love most."_

With that, the call ended, leaving Heero in pensive shock. He woodenly placed the receiver in his cradle then placed his hands flat on the desktop. He stared off into space, trying to decipher the message's meaning._Vengeance? What is suppressed? And what is "the thing I love most"?_

"What was that all about?" Duo inquired.

Heero looked at the silent phone, still brooding. It suddenly felt like a ghost came up and brushed him on the ear, but whose ghost? "I don't know. But soon I will."

* * *

Some miles away, the aforementioned Mrs. Heero Yuy opened the file folder detailing her next assignment and found it empty.

Confused, she lifted her head and stared at the broad-shouldered, long-haired Japanese man looking at the Gracia skyline out from behind the treated window. He was not dressed for the corporate world, blatantly clad in a black Henley and gray slacks. It was one of his many quirks, one of the many things that made him the only person she could trust in this mystifying menagerie of events that her led her to this point. And that was the only reason why she didn't bean him in the back of his head with the file.

"I assume there's some explanation as to why this stupid thing is empty," Danie remarked, her voice echoing through the empty conference room they occupied.

Kaneshi Tsukimori turned from the window and walked toward her. His handsome face was drawn into a mask of anxiety, and when he took a seat across from Danie, she could feel the waves of tension emanating off him. Needless to say, such visible emotional turmoil coming from the normally cool Kane Tsukimori was quite disconcerting.

"It was Arashi-sama's idea for me to give you the empty file," Kane explained. "He felt like it would be symbolic."

Danie found herself looking down at the file again as her brain tried to work out the logic behind Takeshi Arashi's little gesture. She had known the man for nearly half her life, and she credited him for shaping her into the woman she was today. When she had found herself wallowing in despondence over ten years ago, he had given her the opportunity to seek revenge and to build the person she wanted to be—but the chance did not come without a cumbersome price; Danie had to work for him and do his bidding. Danie had to become an assassin.

She had killed dozens of people over the years. In their defense, in the defense of Arashi's secret stash of handsomely paid cold-blooded killers, they had never delivered death upon anyone who didn't deserve to die…except once. Danie thought about that particular instance, and even now, ten years later, she didn't understand any of it—the_why_, the _who_, or the _how_. The 'how' troubled her most, but she wasn't about to admit that.

Especially now that it seemed her time had come.

"He sure gets a hell of a kick out of pulling our legs," Danie remarked, examining the empty folder again before meeting his gaze. "So why didn't he give me this himself? It would have made more sense to me."

"You know Arashi-sama rarely does anything that makes sense to you and me. But he entrusted this task to me for certain reasons." _That I can't tell you at the moment,_ Kane finished to himself. He knew if Danie knew what he knew, she would probably kill him.

A fission of suspicion went up Danie's spine and had her leaning away from him. "Kane…what are you saying?"

"What I'm saying is…" He trailed off and picked up the folder. Much to Danie's surprise, he flung it across the room. There was fervor in his eyes that alarmed Danie. "Fuck all of this ceremony and symbolic shit. You know everything and everyone you need to know, you can do everything you need to know how to do. I want you to go out and achieve your vengeance against the bastards that took what was yours, Danie."

"I'm really ready?" Danie asked him. "Do you really think I'm ready? I mean, I thought after the incident in Tripoli—"

"You were a little overzealous in Tripoli but you got the job done," Kane broke in.

Danie sheepishly ticked off another one. "And then there was accidental explosion in Moscow—"

"It destroyed a Russian databank presumed to have Miyori's picture from a security camera," Kane reminded her, referring to Takeshi's only son. "We didn't need that getting out."

"But what about the flood I caused in that nightclub in Miami—?"

"Don't push it, Danie," Kane interrupted, running out of excuses.

Danie exhaled. "Sorry. I just…" She shook her head wordlessly. She couldn't quite describe what she felt at that instant; she was grimly satisfied that she was going to do something she had been waiting to do for ten years, but she also felt a nagging fear that she couldn't explain away. Her sixth sense told her that as soon as she ventured into the mire, all hell was going to break loose—and then some.

"If you don't do this now, then when would you?" He frowned and considered her for a few beats before asking, "You're not worried about Heero, are you?"

Her qualms mounted tenfold at the thought of her husband. He knew nothing of what she did, of her perilous occupation and the blood that stained her hands. She knew of his past—what he chose to tell her, that is—and she feared he would disapprove. He had fought in war, had killed as well—but like this, with a layer of gloss and indulgence?

Danie swallowed the lump in her throat and spoke softly. "I haven't told him fully about what happened ten years ago, Kane. I know at some point he's going to find out everything, including what I really do for Takeshi Arashi."

"You're afraid he'd leave you because of it."

Danie was not staggered that he figured that one out. She was transparent when it came to Heero—except to Heero himself. "Well, wouldn't you?"

"What I'd do if I were in Yuy's shoes isn't the point," Kane reminded her. "What is the point, Danie, is that he's the man you love, even though you've been shitty at showing it lately." Indignation took over Danie's features and Kane had to stifle a grin. She was much more effective—and beautiful—when she was angry. "Maybe it's time you broke down your walls."

"I don't want him mixed up in this," Danie said firmly. "This is _my_situation, and it will be _mine_to rectify."

"So what happened to _What's yours is mine and what's mine is yours_?" Kane wanted to know.

"I don't think that applies to skeletons in the closet. I'm sure Heero hasn't told me every little detail about his life. In fact, I know for certain."

"I do think it applies to skeletons in the closet. Haven't you ever believed in quid pro quo? Maybe Heero hasn't told you everything because he knows you're holding back from him, too." Danie pursed her lips, a sign that she was getting tired of this topic of discussion. "Just think about it on your way to New York."

Danie blinked at the change in topics. "I still have to go to New York?"

"Oh yeah…" Kane fished in his pocket and pulled out a black flash drive. "Arashi wanted to give you a head start." He dropped the rectangle in her hand as her eyes went huge. "Don't sweat it, kid—he gave us all one. Just don't waste it."

"I won't," Danie promised, and rose.


	4. Building the Mystery

**Author's Notes: **_Oh lord, here comes Nicole again! LOL, just kidding. Anyhow, I would like to give a shout-out to _**CrystillineYuy **_for reviewing. I'm glad to know to know you've got my back! I love you! :-D_

_As for the Isley Brothers (hey, "Between the Sheets" is the __**jam**__!), __Teletubbies__, and the reference to 70's music...eh, it's just more Immaterial Girl _loco_-ness._

_Gundam Wing and its characters don't belong to me. I'm not that lucky._

* * *

**III**

Fifteen minutes after the mysterious call to Heero ended, the five members of the Wild Wing Agency and their wily secretary gathered in the conference room for an impromptu emergency meeting—called by none other than the secretary herself.

Nicole spared no ounce of amusement for this gathering; she had control and she meant to keep it. She was dead serious about trying to figure out what was going on, not because she was nosy (as Duo would surmise) but she had become suspicious of such things since her acquaintance with the boys had begun. And they just indulged her on it—well, honestly, Quatre did and insisted that the rest of them should do the same. Besides, what harm would it do?

"I really do not feel like listening to her blather," Wufei remarked as they waited for Nicole and Heero to appear. "It's enough she has the privilege of knowing what we do and the people we work for, but to have her ordering us around—?"

"Usually I would agree with you, Wufei, but I understand where she's coming from," Duo admitted. The sugared donut and coffee had gone a long way to erase the previous night's fatigue. "And you know Heero, he wouldn't say anything about it even if you threatened him with the _Teletubbies_ movie."

Quatre winced, remembering his daughter's _Teletubbies_ phase. He hadn't been able to stop singing the show's theme song at strange, idle moments for weeks. Nicole had eventually gotten sick of it, short of throwing her pen cup at him, and had made him listen to the Isley Brothers' _Greatest Hits_ album to release him from the ill effects of Teletubbism. (She'd later joked that the twins had been conceived to "Between the Sheets," a fact that Quatre never confirmed or denied. Only Duo had found this funny.)

Quatre held up a hand. "Duo—let's not mention that show ever again. It still gives me nightmares."

"I think what Duo means to say," Trowa began after Quatre's moment of discomfort was fading, "is that it might be the harbinger to a problem, and we are better off prepared for it than oblivious."

"But couldn't we handle this without the woman and her obnoxious mouth?" Wufei inquired his comrades.

"I'd like to see you call me that to my face—_Wufei_."

Everyone shifted to find Nicole standing in the doorway, her five-foot-three-inch frame draped in a stance of talking-badness. She raised an eyebrow when Wufei didn't say anything. Eyes smoldering, she rounded the table as Heero walked in behind her with a digital recorder looking more troubled than usual. Duo snuck a surreptitious glance at Wufei, wondering how long he had to live before Nicole lost her temper.

The two shot daggers at each other with glares before Nicole spoke again. "You know, Wufei, I would roast your chicken-fried-rice-eating ass such a comment, but since we don't have the time, I'm gonna get right to the point." She turned to Heero. "Play that funky music, white boy."

When Heero just blinked at her, Duo leaned in and whispered, "I think she means play the conversation, Heero."

"I know that, Duo. I'm just trying to figure out why the hell she would say something so foolish."

"Shut up, Wufei," Quatre and Trowa said in unison when Nicole's face went stormy. Wufei grunted and said nothing. Heero pushed the play button on the digital recorder and played the short exchange for them. When it was over, Duo, Wufei, Trowa, and Quatre sported identical looks of confusion. Nicole and Heero were grim.

"Heero was unable to complete the trace since the call was so short," Nicole began, "but I was able to pick up and place some of the background sounds when Heero played it for me a couple of times.

"Now, before I reveal my theory on where the call was made, I think we need to speculate on who and why." Nicole held up a hand when Quatre began to speak. "The caller wanted Heero specifically and made references to 'truth,' 'vengeance,' and something 'suppressed.'"

"Can't forget the 'thing you—Heero—loves most,'" Duo supplied.

Worry came into Quatre's eyes. "Oh no…you don't think this person could be talking about Crys, do you?" It was no surprise that he thought of his wife first, for Heero probably would have found immense fault with him if he hadn't.

Tapping his chin, Duo considered this. "It's a possibility. Unless there's someone else that Heero loves more."

"We can't completely rule out the fact that it could be his wife this mysterious person is referring to," Trowa pointed out. "Though Heero might argue that he doesn't love Danie more than does his twin sister, this person may not be taking Crys into account."

"So we have two candidates," Nicole commented. "But why?"

The room went quiet, and everyone flicked glances in Heero's direction.

"Nicole, I think you'd better skip that portion," Duo suggested, feeling Heero's growing fury. "We can talk about that when we know more. So what about the location?"

"Spanish Gracia," Nicole responded.

Wufei's eyebrows arched at her confident answer. "And you're certain of this."

"Unlike you, I've lived here most of my life," Nicole explained. She slid a file in Heero and Duo's direction. "There's the approximate area of that particular pay phone and the businesses in it. Since I know Quatre's got a meeting in fifteen minutes and Trowa and Wufei have active jobs at the moment, I figured you two had time to spare."

"You assumed correctly," Heero told her, rising and taking the file. Duo, sensing his friend's intensity, pushed his chair back and rose as well. It seemed there was going to be nothing else to reveal from Heero Yuy now that he was on a mission of sorts.

"Hey! Heero?" Heero paused at the door but didn't turn around. If he had, he would have seen the uncharacteristic worry in Nicole's deep brown eyes. "Don't do nothing stupid."

"I can't make any promises," Heero admitted, making Nicole curse under her breath. With that, he and Duo strode out.

* * *

Duo ended up driving south because he won the coin toss on the elevator ride down. Heero had wanted to see the coin he had used, but Duo had been too fast for him for once and had pocketed the suspect coin. With a mission in mind, Duo and Heero climbed into Duo's modified Eclipse and zoomed out into the flowing traffic.

"I still think you had a two-sided coin," Heero muttered, arms crossed over his chest.

"I guess you'll never know for sure, will you?" There was a wicked gleam in Duo's eyes, and he knew that Heero wouldn't dare harm him as long as he was in the driver's seat. "Tell me where we're going exactly. Nicole said it was in the SG district, but you've got the file." Wordlessly, Heero leaned to enter the address into Duo's navigational system. When the female voice—a sister to the one in the elevator at work—read out the directions to Duo, he calmly obeyed them. If Heero had been more observant of his friend, he would have noticed that Duo was not his usual talkative self. However, he had more pressing matters on his mind.

They drove out of the city and into the more colorful, ethnic part of town. Where Downtown Gracia was refined and professional in its businesslike nature, Spanish Gracia was diverse and domestic. It was a place you could come to unwind, listen to good music, enjoy good food, and interact with people who weren't worried about double Windsors and the _Wall Street Journal_.

Duo and Heero parked in front of a _panadería_ that boasted cinnamon rolls the size of a linebacker's meaty fist in bright, vibrant Spanish. The scent of baking bread wafted toward them, but they steeled themselves against temptation. Of course it was decidedly harder for Duo; for Heero the effort required would have been the same for flicking off a pesky fly. They took a glance around, searching for the pay phone that Nicole had said would be nearby.

"There it is," Duo said, nudging Heero as he pointed across the street. A dusty, dilapidated pay phone stood wearily in front of a _peluquería_, currently in use by a dark-haired young woman who was having a passionate conversation with a stubborn lover. Silently, Heero crossed the street and Duo followed. Duo could tell that Heero was anxious about learning who the mysterious caller was, and this poor girl whose life was probably as complicated as an episode of _I Love Lucy_ was going to get caught in the crosshairs of Heero Yuy's wrath.

"Be nice, Heero," Duo hissed as the woman let out a stream of curses in Spanish. He gestured toward the hair salon. "Maybe we can go inside and see if anyone saw anything. It may not get us anywhere, but it's worth a shot."

Not able to refute that logic, Heero followed Duo into the hair salon. Heero and Duo had braced themselves for the sudden influx of women, for they would be legion in a hair salon, but they had not been ready for the giggling, speculative looks, and whispered comments. They were fascinating specimens of a male sort, a species that was rare in these parts where soap operas, magazines, nail polish, and talk about Victoria Secret reigned supreme. Heero was quite out of his milieu here, but Duo took the opportunity and played it to his advantage.

"_Hola, bellas damas,"_ Duo greeted them smoothly. _"¿Es posible que puedan a ayudarnos? __Tenemos un problema pequeño."_

The suave salutation seemed to stop them short for a brief moment. The humming pause was broken by the one standing at the other end of the room behind a chair threw her head back and laughed loudly. As the other tittered with laughter, they surmised that she was owner of this establishment and held all of the power in the room. If they were to find out anything useful, it would be from her.

"Looks like we have a couple of live ones here, _chicas_," remarked the woman. She stared at Duo and Heero, hand fisted on her hip. _"¿Cómo podemos ayudarle?"_ She pointed at Duo with a comb. "You need a haircut_, cariño_. _Ven y siéntate en mi silla_."

Duo strode farther into the depths of the Temple of Woman, fully intending on interrogating them until they gave him something of substance—disarming them with charm first, obviously. Heero watched but came closer, wondering how this was going to turn out. At that moment, the client that had been sitting in the chair rose to her feet and let Duo have it. Heero caught a glimpse of her profile as she gathered her purse and a tight ball formed in his stomach.

That face was eerily familiar.

_Danie…_

"My hair is just fine, I think," Duo told the woman. "But I still need your help."

"Hah! You need my help with hair like that." The hairdresser examined Duo's long brown mane, then smirked at the previous occupant of the chair. "You know, _cara_, it would do my heart good to see you with a _muchacho _like this one. You need some more _amor_ in your life, no?"

The woman looked up at her hairdresser's frank statement about her lack of a sex life, eyes filled with puzzlement. When her green-eyed gaze rested upon Heero, and Duo standing beside him, something inside of him unclenched—for a moment. It wasn't Danie, but it was just as untimely. Moira-Selene Thomas was Danie's fraternal twin sister, older than her by a mere two minutes. From what she lacked in height (Danie was six feet even; Moira-Selene was a shorter five-eight), she made up in prudence and insight. She was just as clever as Heero himself but lacked the hard edge that war had left on him, instead exuding a placidity that balanced her twin's fiery spirit.

"Heero," said Moira-Selene with a small frown. "What brings you to this side of town?"

Before Heero could speak, Duo chimed in charmingly. Heero understood that he was trying to diffuse the situation, but it was still a bit exasperating to watch him flirt with his wife's twin. "We were in the neighborhood for business and were thinking about lunch. Know of any good places?"

Moira-Selene raised an eyebrow. She didn't have but an ounce of Danie's bluntness, so she answered in a polite tone, "Since I do not know you well, Mr. Maxwell, I am not quite sure what would satisfy your palette. I am inadequate to recommend any restaurants."

Behind her, the hairdresser chuckled. "Mo, _cara_, you've gotta stop talking like you're having a showdown with Casanova or something." She turned to Duo and Heero as she tugged on Moira-Selene's hair and had her squirming like an embarrassed teen. "I recommend _mi primo_'s diner across the street. And take _mi corazón_with you, _por favor_. She needs to put more meat on her bones and stop bothering me about _mi colesterol_."

"_Pero_, Olivia—" Moira-Selene began in consternation.

"_Háblame no más,"_ the woman named Olivia said. "Go eat, and have a good time. I can cut your hair later."

Moira-Selene spluttered about her hair as Olivia pushed her out of the building. Duo and Heero followed, and they noticed that the pay phone was conveniently unused at the moment. The pair exchanged a look behind Moira-Selene's back before she whirled around to face them.

"All right," Moira-Selene started, "something is going on here, isn't it?"

Duo grinned at her impishly. "Moira dear, there's always something going on. It's up to you to find out what it is." He crossed his arms over his chest, fully intending to turn the tables upon her. "And why were you here, might I ask? Since we're being so candid with one another."

As Moira-Selene crossed her arms over her own chest, Heero inched out of her line of sight. He was thankful for Duo's baiting of Moira-Selene but didn't ponder on it very long. He went to the pay phone and scrutinized it carefully for any clues of the unknown caller's identity. Unfortunately, he couldn't lift any fingerprints; there were probably hundreds of thousands there by now.

"I was here checking on Olivia," Moira-Selene explained coolly. "She is a patient and an old family friend. Her son and I had a relationship for a long while—"

"Oh!" Duo exclaimed. "So you do like men. There's hope for me yet."

Moira-Selene's emerald gaze went frigid. "And the last layer of Dante's hell is a water park."

As Moira-Selene and Duo parried, Heero found one lone hair that had fallen on the dusty ground. He carefully picked it up and encased it inside of a piece of paper. It was a dark hair strand that was a little on the fine side, and its density and length suggested a woman...or a man with long hair with blessed texture.

He felt Moira-Selene's eyes on his back and slowly turned, deftly stuffing the folded paper in his pocket before Moira-Selene could see it. He stared at her a moment, scrutinizing her raven mane. It was cropped to shoulder length and therefore too short to have yielded the hair that he had just found. So that counted her out of his list of suspects.

Duo glanced at his wristwatch. "Well, it's definitely time for lunch." He patted Moira-Selene on the shoulder. "Let's get you fed, huh?"

Moira-Selene looked at him incredulously. "Mr. Maxwell, I do not wish to accompany you to lunch. I have pressing matters to which I have to attend."

Heero looked unwilling as well; however, he had different reasons, and he had a feeling Duo would try to explain away his misgivings. He wanted to proceed with the investigation as quickly as possible, and even though she was considered family, Heero didn't feel the need to spend time with her. Duo, on the other hand, did. Heero figured he had a small crush on her due in part to the fact that she was so mean toward him.

"Nonsense," Duo said. "Come on. Heero wouldn't mind."

"I would mind, actually," Heero shot back. "We have work to do."

Moira-Selene tilted her head. "And what sort of business landed you in Spanish Gracia? I didn't think your expertise was needed in a place like this."

Duo flicked a glance in Heero's direction before he spoke. Heero could scalp me for this, he thought. He stared into Moira-Selene's inquisitive eyes and made a decision. Oh what the hell... "Well, actually, it's a bit of personal business." Duo mustered up some exasperation to make his next statement believable. "Someone has been calling and hanging up from this pay phone, and we'd decided we'd check it out. We just did a server restore on Cabrera so it wasn't much of a drive down here."

"Oh," Moira-Selene murmured, nodding. Heero gave Duo a look that bordered on approval. "So how did you end up at Liv's?"

He nodded toward the hair salon. "I thought maybe one of you ladies had seen someone. We got a call today about forty-five minutes ago."

"Did you see anyone on the phone around that time?" Heero inquired, breaking his silence. He figured that Moira-Selene wouldn't mind answering a question if he imposed it instead of Duo.

"Hmm..." Moira-Selene paused thoughtfully. "I had just gotten here around that time. There wasn't..." Then her eyes alighted with remembrance. "Wait a minute. I do remember someone on the phone right then. I wasn't paying very good attention to the person, but I assumed it was a male. The person was tall, with very dark hair, probably as dark as mine. I can't remember what he was wearing...except for a ring on his right hand. It was adorned with onyx and opal stones. I remembered it because I thought it was a little odd."

"Onyx and opal," Duo echoed. "Interesting..."

Filing all of this away for future use, Heero nodded. "Thank you for your help, Moira-Selene." He stepped away and intended for that to be the end of it when he heard Duo say, "So I suppose we owe you. Lunch is on me." When Moira-Selene began to protest, Duo persisted. "I insist. It's the least we can do. Besides, if I know Heero, he's gonna miss lunch, and he gets crabby when he misses a meal."

"Duo," Heero snapped.

"I do not believe-" Moira-Selene attempted, sensing Heero's annoyance and wanting to be far out of its path.

"Don't be scared. Besides, what's the worst that could happen?"

* * *

Danie waited until she was on the private plane and the plane was in the air before she plugged the flash drive into her laptop.

Save for the pilot, Danie was all alone. She would not have any assistance on this venture except for the flash drive that Arashi had bestowed upon her. Grimly she clicked on the removable drive icon that appeared in her "Computer" folder.

On the flash drive were a series of five documents named only by numbers. Danie selected the first document and was greeted by the sight of a young dark-haired, blue-eyed man along with his dossier. His name was Dr. Cameron Prescott, and he was only slightly older than she was. He had lived in Manhattan during the year of the Incident and had remained there ever since. His father Steven Prescott had been a wealthy doctor who had met an untimely end just three months shy of Danie's seventeenth birthday. His only son had distanced himself from the wealth that had brought his father's downfall and currently was at the head of a team of doctors at an inner city clinic. Danie found that interesting—at least enough to want to talk to him.

_Would the sins of the father spread to the son?_ Danie asked herself. _I suppose we will see, shall we?_

Danie mused, checking out the other documents and formulating a plan. She knew she couldn't take all of the players out at the same time—that would require more resources than she had—but the job had to be done expediently before they could catch on. For a moment, she considered asking for help. But who would she ask? Who could she ask?

Her cell phone buzzed right at that moment like a herald from Mercury. _You have 1 new text message,_ her phone informed her along with the garish loop of an envelope opening and closing. She opened the message and could only shake her head in mild amusement.

_Having lunch with Heero & his friend,_ it read. _Ran into them at Liv's. Do you think he'd mind it terribly if I stuffed a tortilla down Duo Maxwell's throat?_

_Moira-Selene,_ Danie thought. Her sister hadn't liked Duo Maxwell from the moment they'd laid eyes on each other at Quatre and Crys's wedding, and she simultaneously could and couldn't understand why. Duo Maxwell—on the surface anyhow—was an upbeat, laid-back young man whose transient lifestyle was beyond homebody Moira-Selene's comprehension. Yet, Duo had a more serious side and his intelligence quotient was higher than his outward demeanor made it out to be. Moira-Selene hadn't taken the time to figure that out. It was Danie's opinion that she should.

_Like you should take out the time to talk to Heero?_ her conscience bleated. It sounded eerily like her big sister Jessica, which didn't make it any better. She ignored the inner voice and replied back to her sister's text.

_Be nice, Mo._ She paused as the obvious question popped in her head. _And how the hell did YOU find them at Liv's? Can't see Heero getting his hair done in Spanish Gracia. Liv'd put blonde streaks on him & and he'd kill her. Duo on the other hand...  
_  
Moira-Selene answered, _They claimed to be in the area because of a strange phone call. __Muy__interesante__, indeed. And Duo would have gotten his hair done by Liv if I hadn't seen Heero._

She read the message as another was coming in. This one was from Heero. A little shocked, Danie blinked in surprise and read it.  
_  
Hello, Danie. Are you in New York yet?_ it asked.

A little smile quirked the sides of Danie's mouth. Despite the wall that had formed between them, he had still taken out the time to be worried about her, to send a text message. With the tingle of warmness came a gush of guilt. She clamped down on it and replied, _Hello, Heero. No, I'm still in the air. I hope things are well where you are. And if Mo starts speaking in short, tight sentences, duck for dear life._

_How did you know I was with your sister?_ came the response.

_She asked me if you would mind if she maimed Duo. I told her to be nice. I'll call you when I get out of the meeting, darling. Love you._

_Love you, too,_ Heero texted back._Be careful._

_Be careful._ Danie put her phone away and rested her hands, fingers spread apart, on the little table in front of her. She fought the wave of nausea and unease. Firming herself, she tried to remember that this was not the time for weakness. She had been waiting ten years for redemption, and she was damned well going to get it.

Daniella Thomas was an angry assassin, and before the speedy private jet landed in New York State, she had her own Death List Five. Uma Thurman she was not, but it was a place at where she could start.


	5. The Suppressed

**Author's Notes:** _A slight change to the plot; instead of there being twelve weeks between the Prelude and Chapter I, there are only six. If I left it at twelve weeks, this story would drag on forever and ever! Quite frankly, I would like to end this story as quickly as possible without getting into too much. And who knows? There could be a sequel!_

_Oh-and I hope you are not confused by the last scene of the chapter. You might recognize the character who is disguising herself as__**Anne Katherine Meredith**__. Let's just say she could cause some complications for Heero and Danie in the future chapters... ::evil face::_

* * *

**IV**

It was a little bit before six that evening when Quatre strolled into Heero's office. By then, the business day was drawing to a close for most, and even Quatre had his tie loosened, which signaled his own winding down. Heero, however, abided by no man's timeclock, save for his brother-in-law's (well, enough to suit them both), and still worked on the problem that had plagued him this morning. Quatre watched him carefully, noticing that he looked a bit worn-out. He frowned. Crys had mentioned she had noticed things had not been quite right between Danie and Heero the past couple of years, but he hadn't noticed how much of a toll it had taken on Heero until just that minute.

With firmed resolve, Quatre knocked gently on Heero's open door to get his attention. He knew his friend; Heero had known Quatre had been standing there all along but hadn't acknowledged Quatre until he had demanded it, more or less.

Heero looked up. Quatre said pleasantly, "Evening, Heero. Still working on the mystery caller case? Duo told me that you found a hair at a pay phone in Spanish Gracia."

Heero shuffled the page at which he was currently looking to the back of the stack so that he could look at the next one. "It might be from the mystery caller, so I sent it to be analyzed. The results will probably be back tomorrow. It's a long shot."

"Sometimes long shots have a way of turning into leads," Quatre reminded him. He paused before making his next statement. He wasn't sure how raw Heero was over the subject of his wife and he didn't want to risk upsetting him. Still, concern won out over prudence. "Duo also told me you saw Moira-Selene. She gave you a description of the person who may have called you."

Heero's blue eyes didn't change, just kept that scanning motion as he took in the page in front of him. "Moira-Selene informed us that the person was wearing an onyx and opal ring. Duo tricked her into looking up all of the jewelry stores in Gracia during lunch."

Quatre couldn't help but laugh at that. "I imagine Moira-Selene was quite mad when she figured out Duo had conned her into doing something for him. I couldn't be an easy thing to trick her. She's one of the smartest women I know."

Heero said nothing to that. Quatre decided that it was time to get to the point. He had come into Heero's office for a reason and he wasn't about to let it get lost in small talk.

"Do you have any plans this evening, Heero?" Quatre wanted to know.

Heero's brow furrowed briefly at the question but then promptly straightened. "I was planning to work on this a little longer." That was Heero's speak for_I plan to work until sunrise, whether you like it or not._And Quatre didn't like it. Fortunately he had a way to prevent it…

"Well, put away your work and come visit us for dinner." Quatre saw that he was about to protest and knew he had to bring out the heavy artillery. "Crys would be very upset if you didn't come..."

_Shit._Heero fought a sigh. Quatre's ammunition had been dead on. "Fine, I'll be there."

"Splendid. We're having pot roast—"

As if conjured up by an impish witch who wanted to give Quatre and Heero hell, Duo appeared at Quatre's left. His eyes glittered with anticipation and Heero stifled a groan. "Hey, Quatre! You heading home?"

"Here in a little while. I was just inviting Heero over for dinner. We're having pot roast."

"Well…" Duo turned to Quatre with a puppy dog look on his face. "I don't have any plans tonight… Could I come over for pot roast?"

"Ooh!" Suddenly, out of nowhere like Surprise Pestilence, Nicole appeared at Quatre's right. "Did somebody say roast? Ohmi_gawd_—that sounds good! I haven't had roast in a good _minute_!"

Flabbergasted, Quatre opened his mouth to say something but Duo spoke instead. He seemed to be dismayed that Nicole has stolen his shine. "Nicole, nobody wants you at the Winner dinner table, least of all Quatre. You'll eat up all the dinner rolls and put hot sauce on everything."

Nicole beaned him with her _Excuse me?_look and cocked a hip outward. "For your _information_, I don't put hot sauce on everything." Heero gave her a dubious look, and she felt it, adding, "Well, not anymore I don't. I got bad acid reflux. And _additionally,_ I don't eat bread anymore either. So you can just kiss my black ass, Duo."

"Sorry," Duo tossed back with a smirk. "I don't feel like kissing your black ass. It would take me 'til Christmas, and quite frankly I have other things I'd rather be doing."

Nicole's brown eyes flashed, for she was a bit sensitive about her ample behind, and Quatre had to raise his arm to keep her from pouncing on Duo. He was used by now to being the mediator of fights in their little grouping, and he knew the best way to diffuse the situation.

To that end, he said to Nicole, "Nicole, you are more than welcome to come to dinner—"

Quatre was not able to finish the sentence because Nicole glomped him and nearly knocked him over. "Man, Quatre—I always knew you were my favorite! And that's not 'cause you be signing my paychecks and stuff..." Nicole disentangled herself and her tanzanite and diamond earrings quivered on her ears. "I gotta close up shop. See you at the house!" With that, she rushed off, leaving Quatre in a state of half-amusement, half-disbelief. He had certain affection for Nicole, but, well, sometimes it was hard to find in moments like these.

Duo shook his head in dismay. "You think Crys is going to like _Nicole_ at her dinner table, Quatre?"

"Duo, you may not know this, but Nicole has been at my house for dinner before," Quatre told him. "She has a bit of refinement, believe it or not."

Duo snorted. "Yeah, right. And I'm gonna be a contestant on _America's Next Top Model_."

Heero eyed him, wanting his peace and quiet back. "If you don't leave now, you will be."

Needless to say, Duo left shortly after that. Quatre bid him goodbye as well, not wanting to be a eunuch after all his efforts.

* * *

A few thousand miles away in New York, Danie let herself into Cameron Prescott's apartment as if she lived there. In her line of work, knowing how to let yourself into a locked building or room was a useful tool. She was quite fond of the thought that not even locks could stop her. (Now _walls_on the other hand—well, she could take them, but they required quite a bit more work and planning._)_

She had observed the pedestrians and street traffic for a couple of hours, making sure she wasn't being watched. Her canvas had not unearthed anyone. She had seen Cameron return home around that time, noting that it was not usual doctor's hours; most of the doctors with their own practices she had known (and loathed save her twin) went home at a decent hour. But then again, this was New York. Who knew what had happened?

Danie guessed that he was currently in the middle of a lovely microwave oven-cooked dinner, judging from the strong smell of Lean Cuisine in the air, and felt she wouldn't be doing him a terrible disservice by interrupting. When she found him sitting at his desk, his dark cap of hair still wet from a shower, he was reading a comic book. She found it oddly but terribly endearing.

She stopped a foot behind his chair and waited. He didn't notice her, which was not a surprise since she had crept up so stealthily. She had mostly dealt with evil men who had been suspicious with every creak and small sound. Cameron was so engrossed that he seemed so innocent in contrast.

_A welcome change, _Danie thought. But she wasn't going to linger for long. She had _things_ to do.

"Those are bad for your health, you know," she remarked in a matter-of-fact tone as if she were merely continuing a conversation with him. She put her hands on her hips and watched as he jumped, startled, and choked on a piece of chicken breast. He vaulted to his feet and whirled around.

Cameron held up his hands, blue eyes filled with fear when he saw her behind him. "Oh God—I'm being robbed. Okay. Look, if you want any money—"

"Cameron," Danie began on an exasperated sigh.

"If you want to take my stuff, you're more than welcome," Cameron babbled. "I mean, this shit doesn't mean anything to me." To prove his point, he knocked over a Waterford vase and had Danie looking at him incredulously. "See? Now it's a heap of fucking glass on the floor and I could care less. So take it all," he continued, making an expansive gesture to include the affluently furnished room. "As a matter of fact you'd be—" Frustrated, Danie unearthed her gun and pointed it at him. He stared at the gun, eyes even wider. Then he frowned as if he had remembered something. "Hey…how did you know my name?"

Danie gave him a bland stare. "If you don't shut up and listen I'm gonna shoot you in the foot. And I assure you, it won't be a picnic either."

Cameron swallowed. "Yes, sure, whatever you say, um…"

"You can call me whatever you want," Danie told him at the hint for an introduction. "As long as you answer my questions."

* * *

Dinner at the Winner mansion on most nights was a sedate affair; being at the head of a world-renowned corporation required Quatre to open his dining room to relative strangers. However, tonight was more relaxed. Tonight, they were all family. Even Nicole, much to Duo's dismay.

Conversation had started out well. Crys had discovered that Nicole's older sister Melanie had worked with her when she had been a dance instructor before marrying Quatre.

"Melanie was a very talented dancer," Crys was saying as the roast was being portioned. "There were a couple of times that she out-danced me. She wouldn't agree, though, and I guess that was the most refreshing thing about her. What's she up to now?"

"She still teaches at the Sakura School," Nicole responded, referring to the Sakura School for the Arts. Frowning, Nicole picked up her wineglass and sipped. It was some good stuff in there. "So why'd you quit?"

Crys's eyes simply slid in her brother's direction in response. Heero glared at her back. "You were in too much danger to be working at a place like that," Heero said.

"Danger? What the hell are _you_ talking about?" Nicole asked incredulously. "I mean, it wasn't like she was instructing the kids from the _Sopranos_. The Sakura School has decent security—"

"At the time, Heero wasn't the most reasonable person on the planet when it came to his sister," Quatre broke in, seeing the storminess in Heero's eyes. "He tended to over-protect her where strangers were concerned. Particularly if they were male. He didn't leave Crys alone with Duo for a full year."

Nicole nearly choked at Duo's hurt expression. "Shoot, I don't blame him. I wouldn't let Duo baby-sit a goldfish."

"I've got a bum rap, I have you know," Duo complained. "I'm not near as wayward as you make me out to be." Nicole raised an eyebrow at him. "So I like a nice, hearty meal and the company of an engaging female every now and again. It doesn't make me a bungling idiot or Dante Gabriel Rossetti."

"You mean all the time," Crys said with a snort.

"Now Crys dear," Quatre scolded gently. She looked at him innocently. "Duo is more mature than we all give him credit for." Duo nodded and prepared to thank Quatre when he added, "But he's still worse than Kristana when he gets on a sugar high." Duo pouted as Nicole and Crys laughed. "I'm just teasing you, Duo."

"How is it that I get to be on the butt end of the jokes and the teasing? There are other people in the room, you know."

"Man, I ain't about to pick on Quatre because I'm on his payroll and I ain't crazy," Nicole explained as she forked up roast beef. "So that counts Crys out, too. And…" She eyed Heero, who had been quietly eating in front of her. "Well, Heero would probably end my life if I made a joke about him."

"How astute of you, Nicole," Heero responded.

"So tell me," Nicole began, addressing Crys and Quatre, "did Heero let _you_two in a room alone together?"

Crys replied defiantly, "Heero didn't _let_ me do anything. I did anything I wanted." As Heero's eyebrows arched as if his memory of the past was different than she way she was coloring it, Crys beamed at her husband. "And I loved Quatre that I was willing to go toe-to-toe with Heero over whatever when it came to him." Nicole seemed quite fascinated with the statement, and nodded slowly as if she was imagining a younger Crys and Heero in a knock-down, drag-out fight. "But that isn't to say that I didn't take consideration for Heero's feelings from time to time. Especially when Relena Peacecraft—"

Crys snapped herself out of storytelling mode and closed her mouth abruptly. Duo and Quatre's gazes switched from twin to twin, feeling the strange jarring of hitting an emotional wall. The air was suddenly fraught with tension, and Nicole, as astute as Heero said she was, could feel the hair standing up on her arms.

"I feel like I'm missing something here," Nicole said, blinking. Everyone went back to their plates and Nicole scrutinized their faces. "Relena Peacecraft?" Nicole frowned as she placed her wineglass back in its place and looked at everyone inquisitively. "Who was that? The name sounds familiar but…"

Quatre and Crys shared a glance. Kristana ate placidly, the turn of topic going over her pretty little head. Crys then looked in her brother's direction, watching him for his reaction. Heero's face was blank, but, being his twin sister and knowing him, she could see the anguish in his eyes.

"You don't know who Relena Peacecraft is?" Duo asked, tone incredulous. The way he sounded, you'd think Nicole had just indicated she didn't know about the earth being round.

Nicole raised an eyebrow. "Look, my family had our minds on things other than the war, thank you. Excuse me for being ten years old and not paying enough attention back then. But I'm paying attention now." _Pause._ "So who was she?"

No one said anything for a moment. Nicole sat back in her chair and peered at them suspiciously. She was old enough to realize when someone was keeping something from her, and she knew all their poker faces. Heero didn't meet anyone's gaze, so Crys was the one who nudged Quatre on.

"She was our age," Quatre explained in an even tone. "During the war. She was a young diplomat who had been the princess of a destroyed kingdom. Ten years ago, she…" Quatre hesitated, feeling Heero's sadness from his left and Nicole's curiosity from in front of him. The truth was, as much as he trusted Nicole, he knew that his comrades—particularly Heero—had not been completely forthcoming about their pasts. Relena Peacecraft and her sudden, unwarranted death was still a raw subject for Heero. Quatre, along with everyone else, wished it weren't, but there was nothing that time had been able to do for him…

Nicole gestured for Quatre to continue. "She…what? What happened?" She froze as she read the answer in Quatre's eyes. She looked down at her plate, sobered. "Oh…well. That explains the past tense." Feeling the heavy pall that had fallen upon the room, she turned to Kristana on her left and asked, "So Baby Girl, are you ready for tomorrow?"

Kristana turned toward her, her blue eyes alive with happiness. She was ecstatic on the subject of her impending birthday, so the subject shift was a good move on Nicole's part. It covered up the silence from the other adults and lightened the mood drastically. By the time Kristana began describing her special birthday dress, her parents, Nicole, and Duo resumed their meals.

However, Heero didn't touch anymore food for the rest of the evening.

* * *

Danie sat down on the couch facing the frustrated Cameron Prescott, placing her gun on the coffee table between them—well, closer to her of course. She saw his eyes rest upon it, saw the wheels in his head indicating that he was gauging how long it would take to grab it before she did.

"Don't even think about it," Danie warned him. "I can pick up this gun and have two shots in your head before your hand leaves your knee. So don't fuck with me, Prescott."

"You think threatening me is going to get you what you want," Cameron remarked, seeming a bit irritated by being held at gunpoint now. She didn't blame him though.

"Damn straight," Danie shot back without having to think. "You're still here aren't you? So I would be lucky for that." She paused, letting him take that in. "I have some questions about your father."

Cameron blinked, frowning. He had_not_been expecting that. "What does my father have to do with anything? He's dead, for godsakes."

"Which is why I'm talking to you." Danie switched gears, trying to appeal to a more emotional side of him. She added to her tone a bit of desperation—not enough to lose her ground but just enough to optimistically open him up. "Listen, I'm hoping you can help me find out some things. Something very serious happened to me ten years ago and he was a part of it." Danie eyed Cameron closely. Indignation was slowly being overwhelmed by guilt, horror, and incredulity. She could see it in his face. "Which is why you're here and not working some frou-frou girly clinic in Greenwich Village."

Cameron looked at her and shook his head. "You know nothing about me." Danie pursed her lips together to keep from swearing. He leapt up before she could catch him and snatched the gun away, much to her dismay. She lunged after him, her ponytail bouncing, but he moved out of her grasp and behind the couch. He had the gun pointed at her head. Danie cursed and tried to think of a way out of this mess before gray matter stained the walls.

_Dammit, maybe I wasn't ready to do this yet,_ Danie thought hurriedly. _Apparently Kane saying I knew everything I needed to know was total and utter_bull_shit. Here I am about to get killed by a single comic-reading doctor who eats Lean Cuisine and I haven't even gotten_anything_out of him! Shit! Danie—what the hell are you_good_for?_

She inhaled, trying to keep calm. Maybe if she pretended that he had the power and that she was a poor, desolate female, he wouldn't bust a cap in her skull. Yeah. She could try that, see if that would work. It was better than dying.

"I'm sorry for pulling the gun on you," Danie began in a low, non-threatening tone. "I had to do something. I need information and I know you have it…"

Danie trailed off as Cameron's panting found her ears. She could faintly hear his heart thudding against his ribcage. Was he afraid to shoot her? He was a doctor, after all. He was supposed to preserve life, not take it. As her curiosity assailed her, Danie turned her head and saw a trembling Cameron staring back at her in her peripheral vision.

"Y-you," Cameron managed, eyes glassy with remembrance. "It's…you…"

"What do you mean?" she demanded, turning around fully. "Where have you seen me before?"

Cameron continued to give her that astonished stare as he rounded the loveseat and stood above her. He looked several shades paler than he had when she had pulled the gun on him, which told her that whatever he remembered was very weighty. He sat down beside her, still visibly shaken. She opened her mouth to press him further but he placed his fingertips on her jawline and turned her head so that he was seeing her profile. Her mind raced as she tried to figure out what he was doing.

It stopped cold when she felt those same fingertips touch the usually hidden scar on her scalp.

Danie sucked in a breath and tried to keep the sadness and rage from spilling out. Hardly anyone knew about the scar on her scalp under her hair except for her sisters and her husband. It was concealed usually unless she wore her hair in a ponytail as she was now. Flashes of memories zipped across her mind's eye, each one more heart-breaking and infuriating than the last. Some of them were fuzzy; others were blazingly, sickeningly real. For a moment, she was sixteen years old and waking up in a Manhattan hospital without any knowledge of how she'd gotten there or what had happened.

The gun clanked to the ground. Cameron didn't move to pick it up. Neither did Danie.

"You want to know how I remember you," Cameron said in a soft voice.

"Yes," Danie affirmed, barely able to speak. "I do."

"A girl, lying on her right side in a bloodied hospital gown with matted, sweaty dark hair. A pretty face twisted in pain and anguish because she doesn't understand what is going on or why it is happening. A voice, thunderous in fury, echoing off the grimy walls and promising revenge." Cameron paused so that this could sink into Danie's brain as it had been branded into his own over ten years ago. "I'll tell you anything you want."

* * *

Crys walked her brother out after they had wished Kristana good night. Quatre was currently reading her a bedtime story and probably cursing himself for not doing this himself. The summer night boasted a clear sky and a breeze that dulled the edge of the late July heat from the air. She would have cherished such a night if it hadn't been for the waves of unhappiness emanating off of her twin.

"You still think about her, don't you?" Crys asked gently as they walked down the steps toward Heero's car.

"And why would I be thinking about her?" Heero countered.

"Relena died a month from tomorrow, eight years ago," Crys reminded him, feeling rather than seeing the pang of pain that went through him. She studied him for a moment before speaking. Hiroshi Yuy was not a weakling, but even the strongest person had their breaking point. "I know you go to visit her grave every year."

"I have some respect for the dead, Crys," Heero said in a tone that was faintly defensive.

"What does Danie have to say about that?"

Heero tried not to flinch at the question. "Danie doesn't know."

Crys looked at him incredulously. "Heero…you haven't told Danie about Relena?"

Heero's jaw clenched, and he continued to look in front of him. Emotions swelled that he had thought were long gone, and he put a clamp on them. He was feeling far too unstable at the moment and he didn't want that to spill over onto his twin. He sucked in a breath to steady himself then said, "I told her in vague terms. She knows enough. It wasn't important."

It was Crys's turn to control her own emotions. She could have hit him then, but it wouldn't have solved a thing. "You should have been clear about everything, Heero."

"Everyone has secrets they keep to themselves," Heero said flatly. Danie's words from their therapy session came back to him, unbidden: _Well, we all have secrets we keep from one another. Doesn't everyone?_He had inwardly agreed with that assertion because he knew _she_ too was hiding something. It was a sad, sorry state of affairs.

Crys exhaled through her nose in another attempt to calm herself. "No—just you, Heero. And let me tell you something: if I were in your shoes that would have been the first thing I told Quatre. I can't see how you've kept this from Danie for your entire marriage."

Heero shook his head and unlocked his car door. "We shouldn't talk about this now."

"Tell me something, Heero," Crys pressed as he climbed behind the wheel of his car and closed the door. "Do you really love Danie or are you afraid that breaking up will make you a failure?"

Heero wondered that himself, which was why he focused on turning his ignition. He wasn't sure he'd like the answer to that inquiry. "Good night, Crys."

Crys's lips parted in shock as if she wanted to say something but was unable to. The Camaro's engine purred before Heero roared off and left his sister in his wake.

He drove home in a state of silent numbness. The only thing that snapped him from his stupor was his cell phone located in his pocket. He deftly fished out his phone as it buzzed. He had put it on vibrate after dinner began and had forgotten to switch the setting. Because of it, he had missed a call. _Danie._ How ironic.

He hated to think it, but he was suddenly glad Danie was away at the moment. He couldn't talk to her in his current state of mind where part of him was still grieving for a woman who was long gone.

* * *

A continent away, Anne Katherine Meredith awoke for her day.

Where she was it was five-thirty in the morning, and even though everyone else was in bed, she rose with purpose. Anne was not one to indulge herself very long. She rarely slept in, hardly ever took an extra cookie when she wanted it. She tamed her wild world with discipline, controlled impulses with grim reality. She would not be living if she didn't play it by the book. She would not be living if she hadn't followed the rules. She had already been killed once. There was no need for it to happen again.

After a shower (a minute-and-a-half of precise bathing, none of that Herbal Essences _ooh-ah_ stuff), a quick session with the blow dryer, and the selection of her clothes for the day (a blouse and slacks), she walked out of her bedroom and down the hall to the door marked _Enter at Your Own Risk_. Anne heard the snoring of the ten-year-old behind the wood and fought a sigh. She was still sleeping.

Anne opened the door and walked into the room, promptly toeing a lavender-hued tank top. The rest of the room was in similar disarray with clothes draped haphazardly on the backs of chairs, on the desktop, out of open dresser drawers. Even the occupant of the room slept messily; she was sprawled about the space of the bed as if she were determined to take up the most space, the comforter was askew, and a lone, cotton-candy-pink-tipped foot appeared from the right corner edge. Anne shook her head in disbelief and shook the uncovered foot.

The pre-teen groaned like she did every morning. "Mo_ther_…five more minutes…please."

Anne looked at her watch. "You can't afford five more minutes. If you sleep any longer, you'll be late for school."

The dark-haired girl sat up in bed and rubbed her eyes. She looked rumpled, a complete foil to her perfectly coiffed mother. She swung out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom. The water started running, and Anne went downstairs to start on breakfast, as she usually did.

Some minutes later, Anne was putting the freshly cooked scrambled eggs onto a plate with toast and fruit when her daughter strode in, clad in her prep school uniform. She scented the food in the air and sat down at the island in front of the eggs.

"You'll have to eat quickly," Anne told her as she dug in. "We haven't the time to linger."

Her daughter shook her head and picked up an apple slice to munch upon. She didn't say much of anything to Anne; she was not a morning person. About ten minutes later, Anne and her daughter climbed into Anne's car and headed toward school. After another ten minutes, they were at the front door, hovering by the curb.

Anne turned to her daughter and straightened a crooked barrette. She fought a sigh over the beautiful features which were nothing like hers.

"Bye Mother," her daughter said. "Go out and do something fun today. Don't stay stuck in the house like a recluse."

"Not on your life, dear," Anne remarked, and then bid her a good day at school. Anne watched her saunter away and find some friends with a faint smile on her face. Her daughter was so vibrant and outgoing, able to do and say things that she had not been at that age. Despite all of her breeding, Anne's daughter still possessed a smidgen of brassiness, something that was inherent and not learned. Something that had come from her blood.

Anne Meredith may have raised her daughter, but she did not birth her. Someone else had done that. For some odd reason, that bothered her today. She could not figure out why.

Then her eyes strayed to her cell phone sticking out of her purse. _Wednesday, July 26,_ read the date. Anne exhaled as memories of what had happened nine years and eleven months ago threatened to ravage her brain. She didn't need to think about the past. The future was more important.

She had tried to bring peace to the world in her former life, but in her new existence, she couldn't even bring it to herself.


	6. Pandora's Box

**Author's Notes:** _Phew! Sorry, everyone, that this took so long! I had some doubts and blocks I had to overcome to finish this chapter. You know how writing is, right? I apologize in advance because this is the longest chapter so far. A lot of stuff happens here, but there is one date you need to remember: __**August 26**__._

_As for the timeline, I still haven't decided whether I am going to use the After Colony timeline or not, so you can either think of (for instance) Relena's birthday as being April 7, AC 180 or April 7, 1980._

_I have to give an extra special shout-out to my homegirl "heart/soul sista" (as she would say, lol) Susie Q. (aka Wonder Woman) who gave me an idea for Danie's fight scene at the end. It's not much of a fight, lol, but it's sort of a warm-up to all the others that will occur. They'll get better, promise! And don't worry if you don't remember where Danie's attacker came from. You'll find out in the next chapter._

_And biscuits? LOL, I couldn't help it..._

_As usual, the standard disclaimer applies: I do not own __**Mobile Suit Gundam Wing **__or its characters or trademarks. You can tell which characters are mine. You either want to run from them, punch them, or break open a Peach Nehi with them. Ask Nicole. She might have one._

* * *

**V**

The next morning, Nicole Smith went on a hunt.

As the office manager (her _official,_ according-to-the-IRS title; Wufei—that chauvinistic asshole, him—still referred to her as a _receptionist_) of the Wild Wing Agency, she was privy to information that would make CIA agents drool over themselves. She had access to thousands of databases for which Quatre had paid an arm and a leg and had rarely used them. She knew of a database that the guys had started themselves, aided by Heero's computer expertise, but had never perused it. _That_ was about to change.

She had not been paying enough attention, as she had put it the night before, about the war raged nearly thirteen years ago, but now she was. She'd been ten then. She was twenty-three with eyes wide open.

She'd come in early, even before billionaire Quatre or workaholic Heero, clad in a white blouse and plain black slacks—and _no earrings_.

The girl was _serious_.

Nicole signed onto her computer first, putting the phone on message mode. She did a little topical search on Relena Peacecraft, browsing through articles about her role in the war and her activities afterward. Apparently, she had been involved with the influential Theodore Baxley in the eighteen months before her death. There had been numerous memorial pieces after her death, and Nicole skimmed them idly. She paused over an article from_London Times_ reporter Mitchell Davenport that had been written on the two-year anniversary. "Regal Evils: the Conspiracy Behind the Death of the Peacecraft Siblings," the article had been called, and she was piqued by Davenport's assertion that an unknown source had told him they had been gunned down by an elusive assassin dubbed Firestar.

_That name sounds familiar,_ Nicole mused, and finally switched to her employers' database. She typed in the name and waited for the result. She wasn't waiting long; there wasn't much to unearth.

_FIRESTAR  
__**Real Name: **__Unknown  
__**Gender: **__Unknown  
__**Age: **__Unknown  
__**Known Affiliations: **__None_

Nicole frowned at the slim entry. _Man, this Firestar must be the_ shit. _There's no way you can skulk around for years and years without these guys knowing who you are unless you have mad skills_. She shook her head thoughtfully and skipped down to the part of the file under the heading _Relena Peacecraft_. _Ah_ha!_All right—let's see what happened to_this_chick._

_RELENA PEACECRAFT  
__**Other Names: **__Relena Darlian  
__**Date of Birth: **__7 April -80  
__**Date of Death: **__26 August -98  
__**Place of Death: **__Frankfurt, Germany  
__**Incident Summary: **__During a visit to Germany to meet with other world leaders and further her peace ideals, Peacecraft and her older brother Millardo (also see __Zechs Merquise__) were fatally shot by a sniper rifle in front of The Gerechtigkeitsbrunnen (Fountain of Justice) mid-morning on 26 August. Three shots were fired; the brother sustained a fatal wound entering the front side to the heart, while the sister was shot twice in the back. After being rushed to the nearest hospital, both Peacecrafts were pronounced dead after several minutes of unsuccessful resuscitation, the elder at 12:02 p.m. local time, and the younger at 12:11 p.m. local time._

_Investigation into the incident left much unknown except for the cause of death and the direction from which the shots were fired; measurements indicated that the shooter was staked out on the fourth floor of the Ostzeile vom Römer. Witness statements and area canvasses revealed very little about the identity of the killer. Months after the incident, an Italian woman named Sadie Castevetes came forward and said that she vaguely remembered a dark-haired person of indeterminate gender roaming around after the shooting. Castevetes helped law enforcement create a rendering of the Peacecrafts' murder; however, since some time had elapsed since the incident, Castevetes's memory was not altogether clear, and the rendering was another dead end._

_The case remained open, and speculation ran rampant as Peacecraft supporters demanded answers. An unknown source claimed to London Times reporter Mitchell Davenport that the notorious assassin known only by the name Firestar had dispatched the Peacecraft siblings. Many attempts by international law enforcement agencies to locate and identify Firestar failed, leading to more conjecture. The most prevalent of the theories was that Baxley Industries head and dubious pacifist Theodore Baxley had ordered Relena Peacecraft dead once their personal and professional relationship had soured. Murmurs connected to Baxley's controversial management of the Megaera Institute also surfaced after the death of Institute heir Nadia Randall, who, while not completely agreeing with her, had been an ardent supporter of the younger Peacecraft and her pacifist beliefs._

Grimly as her head swam with the images invoked and the information she had gleaned from the entry, Nicole tapped her pen on her desktop for a moment before writing a few names she had noticed down on her notepad. _Mitchell Davenport. Theodore Baxley. The Megaera. Nadia Randall._ She downloaded Firestar's file from that database, printed out the section on Relena Peacecraft, and started looking up the other names.

She searched for the Megaera first since she knew the least about it.

_**THE MEGAERA INSTITUTE  
Founded by: **__Alberta Parrish Randall  
__**Concentration: **__Genetics, Fertility, Molecular Biology  
__**Locations: **__Valladolid, Spain; St. Petersburg, Russia (Main); Warsaw, Poland_

A quick look-up of Alberta Parrish Randall revealed that she had been Nadia Randall's grandmother on her father's side, and she had died when Nadia was twenty-eight. Nadia had inherited control of the Megaera until her death eight and a half years ago. It was now being managed by Theodore Baxley and a man named Harlan Taylor. Nicole grunted and scribbled this on a pad.

When Duo arrived promptly at eight, Nicole had switched to coffee and was listening to "The Lonely Shepherd" from the _Kill Bill Vol. I_ soundtrack. He had not slept well or long, so he was not in the best of moods. He brandished his usual sugar-filled breakfast and didn't care what Nicole had to say about it. Still, he was not impervious to the grave expression on Nicole's face and her lackluster clothing. He was even more shocked to find her listening to the _Kill Bill_soundtrack—but that was another issue for another day.

Duo paused in front of her desk. "Hey Nicole? You all right?" He scrutinized her carefully. She appeared slightly weary, and her brown skin didn't have its same glow. "You're not sick are you?"

Nicole didn't move, didn't say anything, for several seconds. When she phone rang, she sent it straight to voicemail with a sharp jab at a button. When she raised her brown eyes to him, they were amazingly blank. Duo's brows furrowed. He had never seen this from Nicole before; usually she was either annoyed, upbeat, or focused. Today she seemed very distracted, as if she were somewhere else on the inside. He had a feeling their discussion over dinner had struck a chord with her.

"Have you ever opened a canister of biscuits?" Nicole suddenly asked.

He blinked at the question. Of all the things in the world he had been expecting her to say, that was not one of them. _Biscuits? What the hell…?_"Yeah—who hasn't, you know?" Duo admitted, puzzled. He tilted his head at her. "But what does that have to do with anything?" Then his eyes widened. "Are you going to make some—?"

Nicole raised an eyebrow. He cleared his throat and apologized. Noiselessly, Nicole leaned forward on her elbows and placed her chin in her palms. "I used to be all scared and shit to open one of those things. Not to mention Mama used to hate canned biscuits—but that ain't the point. Anyway, you tug off the paper and everything, and you know you're gonna have to get to what's on the inside, but you're waiting for that _pop_ when the dough starts oozing out of the cracks." She lowered her arms and shook her head. "I've started on this canister of biscuits, and I'm scared of the _pop_."

Wordlessly, Nicole picked up a stack of papers and laid them in front of her. Duo couldn't help the movement of his eyes traveling downward and reading the page upside down. Something flickered in those cobalt blue depths when they rested on the name _Relena Peacecraft_.

T'was an odd day indeed when he put Relena and the Pillsbury doughboy in the same thought.

"You just jumped right into this feet-first, didn't you?" Duo murmured, picking up the top page and reading it. After a moment, he put it down. "Here's a tip for you, kid—don't let Heero catch you."

Nicole looked at him puzzledly, the most like herself she had been since he'd walked in. "_Kid_ my ass. And what would Heero have to say about me looking this up?"

"Trust me on this one, Nicole," Duo responded with seriousness that had Nicole's hackles rising. "I know that you're just curious about Relena Peacecraft because the subject had come up at dinner last night, but you don't know the whole story." With that, he walked away.

Nicole chose not to say anything about that, because, as a wise woman, she knew the value of silence. And in this instance, her quiet was like gold. It gave her a moment to think. For whatever reason, Heero and the bunch were sore on the subject of Relena Peacecraft. Okay. Fine. They were entitled to their feelings; the fact that those feelings existed did not bother Nicole. It was the why. It was _always_ the why. She may have been a loud-mouthed nuisance as far as the boys were concerned, but that didn't mean she had no brain.

Heero and Relena Peacecraft had been involved at some point before she died.

It explained everything. His strange moods between the ends of July and August. The odd absences every year from August twenty-seventh to the twenty-ninth. The fact that the others around him wouldn't touch the subject of her with a ten-foot Teflon pole. And the feeling that last night's revelation would not have happened if the Missus Yuy had been there…

"Aw hell," Nicole muttered aloud. "Danie is going to fillet his ass when she finds _this_ one out…"

* * *

Heero should have felt his ears burning, but being as it was, he was otherwise distracted.

At the moment, he was on his cell phone talking to his wife while navigating himself through morning traffic. The guilt that had plagued him overnight had induced him to do something he hated doing: hold a phone conversation while driving. There were too many stupid people in his opinion crowding the streets, and he usually wanted to devote all of his attention to dodging them. However, this morning, he had decided to make an exception.

"I apologize for missing your call," Heero said as he braked for a red light. "Quatre invited Duo, Nicole, and me over for dinner."

On the other end, Danie chuckled, but Heero noticed that she sounded a little tired. "I would have loved to be a fly on the wall for that one. You'll have to tell me about it later. How is everyone?"

Heero thought of the dinner again but banished the thought. "Everyone is fine. You?"

"I'm fine, Heero. Just peachy."

"Danie," Heero began as he tapped the gas, "you're not telling me the truth."

Heero listened to his wife's silence, knowing that he had struck some sort of chord. He had not been married to Daniella Thomas for five—or six, maybe—years without knowing which one of her strings to strum at what moment.

"I promise you, I am fine." Her voice was quiet and slightly weary. "You should be worrying about your niece, remember? It's her birthday today."

_Why can't you tell me the truth about something as simple as your health?_ Heero's eyebrows furrowed slightly at her attempt to deflect. "Danie…" he repeated.

She sighed then, and he could hear the frustration in it. He wasn't sure if it was directed toward him, the circumstances, or both. "I'm sorry, Heero, but I have to go. It's the last meeting of the day, and it's very important. I'll be on the plane to California afterwards. See you at the house?"

"Yes," Heero answered. "And Danie—"

"Dammit—the meeting's starting. I'll talk to you later. Love you. Bye." With that she hastily ended the conversation, leaving her husband in a cloud of frustrated confusion.

He knew that she worked for an important man, but the toll he sensed that it was beginning to take on their personal life made itself known with every passing moment. In the past, Danie had been more than happy to divulge her ailments, physical or emotional. Now she lied and said she was fine. Heero was good at watching people, especially his wife, and it gave him no pleasure to realize that she was unhappy. Sadly, he was just as unhappy as she.

When Heero arrived at work, the air was different. He could not put his finger on the strange quality that lingered in the air, but he could feel it. He paused in the doorway, adjusting the strap of his laptop's carrying case, and looked around. Nicole had cleaned satisfactorily; everything was in order. He could hear Wufei in his office talking to a current client about a kidnapping case. Quatre had a meeting downstairs. Trowa's door was closed, signaling that he was either out or hadn't arrived yet. Duo's shuffling in the break room confirmed he was here. The front desk, however, was unoccupied.

_Nicole,_ Heero thought, and quickened his pace to his office.

He found his office door open; he had left it closed upon leaving last night. He stopped outside of his doorway as Nicole, back turned, placed something on his desk. She turned and jumped at the sight of him.

"Damn," she said, hand on heart. "If I didn't know any better I'd say you were trying to kill me."

Heero just gave her a bland stare that indicated that he probably was.

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Least you could do is say thank you or something. I had to go through hell trying to get that damned present. It was almost as bad as trying to score a Tickle Me Elmo." She stalked past him. "You're _wel_come."

Heero stared at the large wrapped box on his desk and said, "Thank you, Nicole."

A bit taken aback, Nicole paused and turned. She nearly smiled. "Mm-hmm. I'll be back to collect."

After Nicole had walked off, Heero closed his door behind her and took the seat at his desk. He placed the box on the floor, noticing at once that it was nearly as tall as his desk. _I have this bad feeling Nicole went more than a little overboard,_Heero mused with a little sigh. He shook it off and decided it was the price he would have to pay for asking her in the first place.

He started up his computer and checked his e-mail. He had two new messages. One of them he had been expecting; it was the results of the DNA analysis on the hair sample he'd had sent off the day before. He opened it and learned the hair sample had come from a male, and his DNA was not in any databases. Heero was not surprised; he had a bad feeling that his little messenger was quite stealthy. He thanked the lab tech for his help and went to check the second one.

_The other message_…

It was simply titled _The Suppressed_.

Eyebrows furrowed thoughtfully, Heero clicked on the letter icon to open the mysterious message. It was blank but had some attachments. Heero had his custom-made virus program scan them before he opened them.

The first was a PDF document. It appeared to be a record of some kind. As Heero perused it closely, he realized it was a medical entry from a hospital in New York State from over ten years ago. The patient had been a female minor of indeterminate age, and some of the injuries were very severe. There had been major blood loss, along with some trauma to the person's reproductive system due to a recent birth. An injury to the left side of the girl's had to be closely watched, and the sum of her injuries resulted in a week-long hospital stay. She had checked herself out after seven days.

The second attachment was another PDF document containing information about a girl named Abigail Taylor, and she had been covertly examined by scientists due to her acute powers of clairvoyance. The document detailed her testing and the progression of her gift. She had been born a day before the unknown girl in the first document had been admitted to the hospital. Heero didn't think that was a coincidence.

The last attachment was like its predecessor in format except that the subject was cannily named Baby Jane, and her birthdate confirmed that she and Abigail Taylor were possibly twins. Baby Jane had started to display a marked physical prowess at six months old when she had deftly caught a fallen vase before it hit her on the head. Further testing had been halted by her disappearance, and toward the end of the document, there was a date he knew very well. Leaning toward the screen, he read a paragraph grimly. _Subject Baby Jane was kidnapped sometime during the early morning hours of 26 August 98. Other occupants of the house at which she was staying did not notice any signs of foul play until it was time to awaken her for the day. According to house staff, her belongings were intact except for a stuffed bear that had been given to her by the late Relena Peacecraft, who had been fatally shot around the time the one-year-old had been taken._

Heero sat back in frozen shock. As his mind processed this new information, he idly touched the wrapped box containing his niece's present. He wondered where the anonymous little girl was now and if she was safe. He also pondered the girl's connection to a dead woman who had been killed the same day she had been kidnapped. He could not decide which unknown was more troubling.

* * *

In southwest London, eleven-year-old Shannon Marieanne Meredith stood in the doorway of her mother's study and watched her.

Her back was to Shannon, and her long honey blond hair cascaded down her back. Her thin pajamas were a gossamer sheen over pale peaches-and-cream skin. She could hear the crinkle of the pages of a photo album turning and wondered what her mother was doing up at this hour.

It was after midnight now; another day of "school" had been completed, and there was little thought of the day to come. For that, Shannon was happy that one more day was behind her; it had been her mother's idea to enroll in summer classes to make up for the time she had lost because of their move a year ago. Shannon was a bright child, but she disliked school. She liked sports better. However, upon her mother's insistence, she could not enroll in any sports until she was at secondary levels and could keep her grades at a satisfactory point. Shannon had grumbled but accepted the compromise. Despite her tendency for rebellion, Shannon wanted to please her mother. It was one of those inherent things she couldn't stop herself from doing.

She knew that there were things that her mother didn't tell her, but she knew that they only had each other in this world. She had chosen not to question her mother's self-imposed oblivion. She knew little of her mother's life before her own cognizance. She recalled stories of a man named Eric Drake, the man who had bequeathed insane amounts of money upon his widowed wife and bereaved daughter, but she did not know him, could not bring up a memory of his face to her mind. Her mother dominated her memories.

Shannon crept up behind her mother as Curiosity gripped Good Sense in a choke-hold. It was a battle continuously waged inside her young heart, and the outcome never changed. It was her only imperfection, Anne had said.

And it was that imperfection that allowed her to glimpse a young woman not much older than she was at that very moment. She looked up at her mother and found an inscrutable emotion in her eyes. The space between her brows crinkled, and she spoke aloud before she could stop herself.

"Mother," Shannon began, startling her mother, "who is that?"

Anne whirled around, eyes a little wide. She slammed the album closed and stood, putting herself between Shannon and the mysterious scrapbook. With her eyebrows knit together, Shannon tilted her head quizzically and stared up at Anne with eyes that were a strange mix of smoke gray and violet. The disbelief and terror in her mother's eyes caused a flash of discontent inside of the ten-year-old who had rarely seen her mother in such uncertainty.

"Mother…" Shannon repeated, alarm growing.

Backlit by the desk lamp, Anne placed a hand on her daughter's cheek. She had quickly composed herself. "Oh—don't worry about that. It's someone from the past, dear."

Shannon's interest peaked. "Can I see—?"

"I think you should go to bed," Anne interrupted. Shannon darted forward quicker than Anne could catch her. "Shannon—?" Shannon grazed the book with her hand as Anne clutched the rest of her and it got knocked to the ground. The book fell open onto a newspaper article accompanied by a large color photo of a blonde-haired, blue-eyed teenager in full political regalia. Shannon bent to look closer at the picture, transfixed by the slightly faded image. Behind Shannon, Anne flinched and braced herself for the inevitable.

Shannon scooped up the album and rose with it. She placed it on the desk as some sort of comprehension dawned. "That's the lady they were talking about in school," Shannon remarked. "She was a pacifist or something." Shannon idly fingered the outline of the unsmiling face, frowning. When she tilted her face up to her mother's, the only thing that kept Anne from abandoning her vow to her former self was sheer willpower. "She sort of looks like you, Mother. Isn't that strange?"

"Oh, it's something all right," Anne replied. She leaned over and tried to close the book but Shannon was too fast. She flipped a page and Anne was face-to-face with a younger version of herself and a man whose face had bile rising at the back of her throat. Swallowing it, she said, "We should put this away. I'm sure you would like to get a decent night sleep before school in the morning—"

"Why do you have this scrapbook, Mother?" Shannon interrupted. "Did you know the lady in the snaps?" She looked down at the current photograph then back up at her mother as something occurred to her. "Maybe you two were long lost twins or something!"

Anne managed a laugh at that. In a sense, she was the other half of the young woman in that picture; they had come from the same egg, had been born at the same moment. The thought sobered her, though, and she ruffled her daughter's raven hair. "You have such an active imagination," Anne said, causing Shannon's face to fall. "Oh sweetheart, life is not nearly as exciting as you'd like it to be, and honestly that's not such a bad thing. Trust me."

Shannon blinked up at her. "So who was she to you? I mean, I wouldn't keep an album full of stories about a stranger. Would you?"

_Would you?_ Anne sucked in a breath before speaking. "She was a very pivotal figure from my history, and I wanted to remember her. That's all." Anne was successful in reaching over and closing the scrapbook this time. "Let's get you into bed, sweetheart. We both have to be up in a few hours." Anne herded her grumbling daughter up the stairs and back into bed. "You know, when you're an old woman like me you're going to be begging for sleep."

Shannon rolled her eyes. "You make it sound like you're walking corpse, Mother. You're not at all old. Though sometimes I wonder…"

"Very funny, young lady," Anne said wryly. She placed her lips on Shannon's forehead and pulled the covers to her chin. "Get some rest, okay?"

Shannon nodded and Anne gently exited the room. Once she was alone, she grabbed her favorite bear she'd had since she was very small and hugged it close. In her restless sleep, she dreamed of a woman who looked like her mother, talked like her mother, walked like her mother, but was not.

* * *

Around six that evening, Danie entered the Arashi Corp building in Gracia. Her mind was not focused upon her engagement in an hour because a bit of unpleasantness had to be taken care of first.

She rode on the elevator to the highest floor where Takeshi Arashi's office was located. Since she was his executive assistant (on paper at least), it didn't look odd for her to be roaming around his office suite. His secretary was gone for the day so she didn't have to jump through that hoop. She walked into his office without knocking, interrupting a meeting with his son Miyori and Kane. Danie crossed her arms over her chest as they all turned to her. _How fitting is this?_

Takeshi Arashi was a tall Japanese man with a trim body and a cap of short black hair that was yet marred by no gray. He still looked as if he had been a samurai in a former life despite his age. When shock-induced silence descended upon them, he regarded Danie with a bit of resignation. He was not silly enough to think that she didn't have a bone to pick with him. Still, he was just a bit displeased at her lack of manners, and he guessed that manners were not paramount for her right now.

"Is there something wrong, Daniella?" Arashi asked with a mild displeasure.

Danie leveled him with a glare that that would have scared him if he were a lesser man. Luckily he was not a lesser man. "Danie—" Kane began.

Danie stood ramrod straight and shifted her bag strap on her shoulder. Kane and Miyori watched, frowning. "I'm fine. I've just run into a little problem that I decided I need to discuss with you."

Kane exhaled. "Danie, if you need to delay—"

Danie eyed him. "Delay? Why should I stop now?"

"That wasn't an insult to your competence, Danie," Miyori assured her, deciding to say something before she hurt Kane. "We're just worried. You've avoided all of our calls and you haven't checked in at all since you boarded the plane over twenty-four hours ago. That is unusual behavior, even for you. You'd at least pick up the phone to say _fuck you_ or something."

Danie said nothing. Kane broke the silence. "I assume you took care of business in New York?"

"No. I took care of business in New York_and_ Miami." The men frowned at her. "Cameron Prescott and I had a little talk, and he supplied me with information that led me to Bruce Richards in Miami with his girl-toy _de jour_. Cameron is still alive for his assistance, but Mr. Richards met his well-deserved bloody end. But not before he got to recognize the person who helped him to it."

"So you're feeling vindicated," Miyori hedged.

"Quite," Danie responded.

"You're lying," Miyori's father countered, making Danie's mouth tighten and nose flare in anger. "You have a problem. What is it?"

The younger men braced themselves for a fantastic show of Danie's formidable temper. Instead, Danie quietly stepped up to the desk and tossed a file folder on Arashi's paper-laden desk. It landed in front of him with a soft snap. He raised dark eyes to hers after glancing at it. Danie nodded at it when he didn't move. "Go ahead. Open it. I assure you, it's not empty like the one you gave me."

As tension hummed in the air, Arashi placed a hand on folder and acted like he was going to open it but didn't. Danie raised an eyebrow, and he finally opened it. Kane and Miyori did not move. Something flickered in Arashi's black eyes, but he did not speak. Seeing that, Danie did, however.

"So you knew," Danie remarked in a solemn tone that had dread pooling in Kane's and Miyori's bellies. "You knew all of this time that they were going to be poked and prodded and bent to some asshole's evil will and did nothing about it." She finally regarded the two men at her sides with a glare. "And you two knew it, too—didn't you?"

Kane exhaled through his nose and was about to speak when Arashi held up a hand for silence. Arashi measured the woman, her fury. He decided he needed to know a few things first—but alone.

"Miyori, Kaneshi, would you excuse us?" Arashi asked in a tone left no room for argument. Miyori and Kane exited the room wordlessly, leaving Danie alone standing in front of him. He closed the file folder and motioned for her to sit.

"I'd rather stand, thank you," Danie said icily.

"If that is your choice." He steepled his fingers in front of him and paused. "Where did you find this, Daniella? I have to assume this just didn't come out of nowhere."

"Does it matter?" Danie inquired testily.

"Greatly," Arashi responded evenly. "You see, if I know the source of your newfound information, I can best help you come to the truth."

She felt like that was bullshit but went on anyway. "It was among the belongings of the late Bruce Richards, who met a quite bloody end by my hand some hours ago," Danie answered. "As you know, he is the shady sonofabitch who crafted the adoption agreement I signed over a decade ago. Additionally he is—or _was_, since his last meal was lead—bosom buddies with Harlan Taylor, the adoptive father to the gifted Abigail, whose talents are outlined in that folder."

"Yes, she is a clairvoyant," Arashi commented, nodding. "However, much to your disbelief, I do not know much about Taylor's plans for Abigail, and that simple fact worries me."

She threw her hands in the air as questions swirled in her head. "What else are you keeping from me that I should know? Like, for instance, what happened to her sister? There is no information about her in Bruce's belongings."

"No one knows what became of her after August of '98," Arashi admitted, making Danie go cold. "She disappeared during the early morning hours of the twenty-sixth…"

An icy lance went through Danie as she remembered that day. She recalled the gunshots that came from above, the looks of horror and surprise beyond her crosshairs as the only remaining members of the Peacecraft family were slain with cold, deadly efficiency.

"Daniella," Arashi began futilely.

A pressure cooker of emotion, she shook her head and turned to leave the room before she blew. "Forget it. I'm done with this shit. I'm done with the whole damn thing. I quit."

He called after her, but she wasn't listening. She was so cocooned in her anger and resentment that his words were useless. She was tired of being jerked around, sick with the fact that she had submitted to it for ten long years. All for what? A redemption that really wasn't hers? A glory that had been besmirched by guilt? The glory wasn't really hers anyway, she understood now. It hid behind a name, a dangerous persona who struck fear in the hearts and minds of people everywhere.

"Danie," yelled a familiar voice.

Her eyes went flat. _Kane._ "Leave me alone, Tsukimori," Danie warned him as she gave the down button an irate smack.

"You don't understand what's going on here," Kane insisted, breathing heavily. "I know you're pissed right now. You have every right to be. But there is more going on here than meets the eye."

"Are you going to enlighten me or are you just gonna stand there?" The elevator door slid open and Danie walked inside. She turned to face Kane and saw fear in his eyes. _Yes. You oughta be afraid now. Very afraid._" You set me on this road and I'm gonna see it through. But if I find out that you had anything to do with any of this, you're going down along with them."

The elevator door slid closed. Danie found that a very fitting end to _that_conversation.

The head full of steam she had built up on the plane ride back to California had lessened by the time she had gotten down to the garage, leaving shakiness and throbbing that were going to be a bitch to deal with later. The gnawing disquiet also still remained. Something was beyond her comprehension, and things would not be rectified once she understood it.

_Relena Peacecraft._ And that name. It made her sick to think the role she had in that woman's death. Furthermore, it troubled her that one of her daughters had disappeared the same day Relena had been killed. _What could _that _mean?_

At that moment, she came up to her car, and the sight of all four of her tires (_new_ tires, a little voice in the back of her head reminded her) slashed jolted her from her musing. She groaned and prepared to kick something when a strange sense buzzed in the back of her mind. It sounded like the agony of twisting metal_. Something is coming…_

Whirling and eyeing the concrete expanse, she flipped her phone out of her purse. Number one on her speed dial was her target.

The call was picked up on the second ring. "Danie? Is everything all right?"

Danie opened her mouth to speak. She only managed, "Darling, my tires—" before the buzz came again and she had to pull the phone away. She could hear her husband's voice, tinny at this distance, pressing her to tell him what was wrong. She felt someone behind her and her senses sharpened.

She quickly pirouetted on her the ball of her left foot and flung her right leg outward. Her boot heel slammed into something solid and she heard an all-too-human grunt. She followed up with a high kick that collided with his chin. Fuming at the darkly clad person doubled over in front of her, Danie went to her phone again.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," she said, trying to sound normal. "Had a little bit of interference. It looks like I'm gonna need a ride home. Could you come get me?"

When Heero spoke again, Danie could hear concern mingled with frustration that came with knowing something was amiss but having no power to change it. "Danie—where are you?"

Danie didn't have time to answer because two more men appeared—and one of them she recognized. It had been several years since she had seen him, but she would always remember Avery Royce.

The phone was knocked out of her hand and went clattering away. She was punched hard and stumbled backwards onto her car. Avery loomed over her as two pairs of hands tried to restrain her. She struggled with her hands trapped behind her when she heard the sound of a gun cocking.

"Avery," Danie said softly but with zero affection. "So we meet again."

Avery looked at her, shook his head as if she were a disobedient little girl. "Danie love, it's a shame you couldn't just let things go and mind your own business." He pointed his gun at her and something inside of her stilled. "I'm going to ask you one question. Where is the file?"

Danie raised an eyebrow as her fingers felt behind her for some vestige of defense. "You're going to have to give me some incentive. What do I have to gain from answering your question?"

Avery lashed out and pistol-whipped her. In the aftermath, she lost touch with reality for a moment as her cheekbone burned with pain and her stomach ignited with fury. There was no way in _hell_ that asshole was going to get away with hitting her. You just wait until she got free. You just _wait_.

"I let you walk away alive," Avery responded as Danie worked out her jaw. "That's some pretty damn good incentive. Now where is the damn file?"

Danie stared at him, her insolence rising. "What file? You have to be more specific than…_shit!_" She cried when he shot her in the shoulder. "What the bloody hell was that for?"

"I have several more of these in this handy little gun, princess," he told her. "The more you stonewall me, the more of these will end up inside you. So let's be frank with one another. Where. Is. It?"

Danie put a clamp down on the pain so that it did not overwhelm her. Her left arm had gone numb, but the fingers of her right hand brushed across her windshield wiper and she had a thought…

_Come on, baka,_ her conscience bleated. _There's no way in hell you can hurt three armed men with a freaking windshield wiper! That's like trying to stab someone with a spoon._

But she had to try _something_. She was not planning to die tonight, if she had any say about it.

"Fine," Danie said. "The file is in my bag." Avery nodded to the goon on her left. He walked around the car to retrieve her fallen purse. Her right hand wasn't in the best position to dislodge the wiper but her left one was. Nearly cursing, she shifted and tried to work the stubborn fingers of her left hand. The goon snatched it off the ground and she snapped, "Be careful, idiot. That bag is _Prada._"

Her divaesque comment had its desired effect; Avery rolled his eyes. Now he probably thought of her more annoying than dangerous. _Good._ "Still worried about designer labels, I see."

"A girl's gotta have the best," Danie remarked. "Though, I can't see how you would know _anything_ about that, Avery." She smiled as her inert fingers finally obeyed and his face changed. "I heard your last _amour_left you for a Jon Cryer look-a-like."

The goon on her right side sniggered, and Avery glared at him, throwing off his aim a couple of inches. He refocused a couple of seconds later, and pointed the gun at Danie. At that moment, the second goon announced, "There's a file in here, Ave. She was telling the truth after all."

Avery eyed her with suspicion and took the bag from him. He gave another slight nod and the snickering goon on the right let her go. As soon as she was loose, she used her newfound mobility to work the windshield wiper free. Her hurt jaw clenched when Avery pointed the gun at her again. Her lips curved sardonically when realization dawned.

"There is no honor among thieves," Danie said as her mind raced. "You lied to me, Avery. I gave you what you wanted."

Avery shrugged. "Like you said, there's no honor among thieves. Besides, I get more money if I report back that you are dead. You should have known they'd be pissed at you once you took that file. I can guess you killed Richards, too."

"Believe me, he had it coming. So why don't you not kill me and say you did?" Danie suggested.

"It won't work like that, princess," Avery responded. He cocked his gun again. "I'm sorry."

Triumph coursed through her when the wiper came free. "I'm not."

Avery faltered a bit, and that was all the opportunity she needed. She swung her right arm around in a wide arc and caught one of them in the back of the head. Unconscious, he fell. Avery tried to shoot at her, but she kicked the gun out of his hand and followed up with the same left jab/right cross combination that had felled him the last time they'd met. She shifted the wiper in her hand and lashed at the goon that had picked up her purse. The wiper abraded his skin where it met flesh, and he stumbled while holding his face. For good measure, she whacked him in the temple with all the force she could muster and he fell.

Avery charged for her and she feinted right. He lashed out with a kick and had her falling to the ground. He climbed on top of her and wrapped his hands around her neck. With a burst of desperate strength as her breath was being squeezed out of her, she jabbed upward with the wiper and it stabbed him in the stomach. His eyes went wide as the life drained out of him. She shoved him away, and his lifeless gaze focused on the ceiling.

Danie panted heavily, sitting in the center of the fallen bodies. Her left shoulder was bleeding, her head ached, and she was exhausted. At her back, she heard sirens and squealing tires nearing. She tried to stand but her knees buckled from under her. Her vision swam as she found herself in a sitting position. She decided that she would not move until she got her strength back.

It felt like hours had passed when she felt hands on her weary body. She heard the murmur of voices, the patter of feet. Those same warm hands, ones she knew intimately, lifted her face and she stared into a pair of worried blue eyes. So she said the only thing she could think of.

"Tell Crys she can kick my ass later," Danie slurred, and then passed out.


	7. Hand to Heart, Hand to Fist

**Author's Notes:** _Sorry for the long wait! It took me a little longer than I thought to plan this chapter. I didn't want it to be too long, so this kinda ends with a cliffhanger... *winces* Don't hit me!_

"_Suddenly Monday" is originally performed by Melanie Chisholm._

_I do not own Gundam Wing, any of its characters or registered trademarks._

* * *

**VI**

A few minutes later, a call was patched to Party Central at the Winner mansion. After answering it and putting the caller on hold, Rashid appeared in the doorway of the party room where Kristana, in her pink frilly dress, and her friends enrapturedly watched a conjurer pull a necklace from the ear of one of the mothers. The other adults watched with a bit of amusement and couldn't help but be awed by the trick.

Trowa noticed Rashid first and nudged Quatre discreetly. He wove himself through the crowd without causing as much as a ripple.

A blonde of average height in a polka-dotted black dress under a pink cardigan came to Trowa. She'd been enjoying the festivities along with the other adults until she had noticed the movements between him and Quatre. She usually kept her distance from the tall, silent, and handsome green-eyed hunk, but concern won out over timidity. "What's going on?"

Trowa gazed at her for a moment before speaking. He was not used to having someone come up and talk to him, especially the usually-cheerful, attractive woman with the worried cornflower blue eyes. "Quatre had to take a phone call. I do not think it's any cause for worry…" Trowa trailed off as Quatre appeared again, and stared at him meaningfully. He straightened a little, and that did not escape the blonde's attention. "If you would excuse me…"

She stared at his retreating back and blinked, feeling like she missed something. Wufei and Duo soon disappeared as well, and she felt a hand on her arm. She turned to find Crys standing behind her with an anxious expression on her face.

"Nothing good ever happens when they all leave the room like that," Crys said quietly so that no one could hear her. She mustered up a smile for her daughter, who looked over and waved happily. When Kristana's attention was diverted, her expression sobered. "Jennifer—could you—?"

Jennifer Dunne nodded. "I'm on it," she responded. She strode away purposefully, trying to stay out of Kristana's sight as much as she could. It was only when she left the room that she registered Nicole walking beside her. "Nicole—?"

"I had a feeling in my big toe that I should follow you," Nicole hissed out of the side of her mouth. "You and Crys were looking serious. Do you know what's going on?"

"I have no clue," Jennifer replied, "but we're about to find out." They swung out of the room, quickening their pace when they were a safe distance away from the birthday party. They caught the shadow of Duo rounding a corner upstairs. They simultaneously guessed that the destination was Quatre's office.

The duo burst into the room without knocking. The men turned, wearing expressions with varying degrees of surprise. Quatre straightened as he was placing the phone receiver back on its cradle. Hastily Jennifer turned and closed the door before anyone could speak.

Nicole, not surprisingly, broke the ice. "So what's so G-14 Classified that's got you all skulking out of rooms and stuff?"

Wufei rolled his eyes but said nothing. Quatre explained, "I was just about to tell Wufei, Duo, and Trowa that that was Heero on the phone. He won't be able to join us this evening." When everyone looked at him expectantly, he continued. "Danie was attacked in the Arashi Corp parking garage about twenty minutes ago." Jennifer reached out for a hand and found Nicole's. Quatre gravely listed her injuries, prompting more shock from everyone.

Nicole covered her mouth in horror. "_Geez_-us!" she blurted before she could stop herself.

"Holy Mother of Buddha," Duo managed at the same time, awed.

"She's lucky to be alive," Trowa said. "I can only imagine how Heero reacted when he saw her."

"Yuy is most likely on the warpath right now," Wufei commented. "After all, someone attacked his wife—and you know what he says about his family."

"_No one hurts a Yuy and lives to tell about it,"_ the others said in unison. It was as well-known as the Golden Rule and the Macarena.

"Well, from what Heero told me, there's not much he can do on the vengeance end of things," Quatre informed everyone. "Danie's attackers got off considerably worse than she did."

"If the other guy looks worse, he must be dead." _Silence._ "Damn, she _killed_the guy?" Duo scratched his head and the party hat bobbed precariously. "Sheesh, I didn't think she had the whole kicking-ass bit in her…"

"Duo!" Jennifer admonished. "I take offense to that. Danie's capable of more than just looking pretty and brewing coffee for a morning meeting. I'm sure she is able to take care of herself in all sorts of situations, including this one."

"I was just saying, Jen—you don't have to get all go-on-girl on me. Where do they have her?" Duo asked Quatre.

"Gracia Memorial," Quatre told them. "I've already decided not to tell Crys until the party is over." Jennifer began to protest but Quatre added, "Not to mention Heero threatened to do me considerable harm if I ruined Kristana's party with this news. I have no choice in the matter."

"I can go," Nicole volunteered with a shrug. She earned dubious (from the guys) and dazed (from Jennifer) stares for that comment. "What?" she drawled. "Look, it's gonna look funny if one of y'all leave. It'll make more sense this way."

"I somehow doubt that Heero will be pacified with you there, Nicole," Duo stated. That prompted a glare from her. "I'm just saying. You and Heero are not exactly Captain and Tennille."

Nicole blinked at him. "What the _hell_? I don't even know who that is. Now you're just talking out the side of your neck." She waved a hand in dismissal. "Man, whatever. We're wasting time. I'm going down there so that he knows we know. If you going along, then you better come and ride the train."

"Whoop, whoop," Duo muttered sarcastically as he followed Nicole out of the office.

* * *

At the hospital, Moira-Selene paused in the doorway of her twin sister's hospital room and watched her brother-in-law for a few beats before making her presence known.

Heero sat quite dutifully at Danie's bedside, watching her face for any signs of cognizance. To an outsider, his face looked impassive, features set in a rigid, emotionless mask. But Moira-Selene knew better. He was worried and rather infuriated that someone would hurt his wife. No matter what was going on between them, he had still vowed to be with her for better or for worse. She hoped that things would improve in light of the current situation.

"She should be waking up soon," Moira-Selene informed him softly. "They sedated her while they extracted the bullet but the medicine should be wearing off." She stopped and placed a hand next to her twin's prone one. "We are lucky she wasn't killed."

"Not quite," Heero said.

Moira-Selene looked at him in disbelief. "What do you mean?"

"We are also lucky that the bastard that attacked her is dead," Heero amended.

Moira-Selene could only sigh. He had latched on the vengeance end of the situation. Not surprising. "Danie doesn't need you on a killing spree," Moira-Selene chided him. "She needs support and care as she heals." She stared into her sister's still visage. "She can take care of herself."

"Almost too well," Heero murmured.

Moira-Selene raised an eyebrow. "Almost too well?" she repeated.

"The guy she killed was impaled in the belly with a windshield wiper," Heero revealed, causing Moira-Selene to lose her color. "I would think that your average woman wouldn't know how to apply a fatal blow with a mere windshield wiper."

"Danie is not average," Moira-Selene remarked. "You and I both know that, Heero. But I have to admit, that particular maneuver requires a resourcefulness that I didn't think my twin had. It's almost like…" She trailed off then, shaking her head absently. Then her green eyes focused on Heero's face. "It kind of reminds me of _you_, Heero."

_Like me._He pondered more on this, and Moira-Selene spied no pride or pleasure in his eyes, only confusion. She didn't blame him. This whole situation seemed to come out of nowhere.

_Or_had_it?_ Heero stared at his wife, trying to think if this had been telegraphed. He couldn't tell right at the moment because he didn't have all of the information. Lack of information seemed to be a chronic problem of the moment. As soon as Danie awoke, he would press her into explaining everything. It was the least she could do.

There was a soft knock on the door and Moira-Selene turned expectantly. A tall, dark-haired man walked into the room along with a petite black woman with curly hair. Moira-Selene put her lips together and sighed before addressing them.

"Dawn, Detective O'Lara," Moira-Selene said in way of greeting.

"Hey Moira-Selene," the woman named Dawn greeted her back. "Sorry to disturb you. We just wanted to talk to Heero about Danie."

Moira-Selene stepped aside and allowed Heero to gaze at their new visitors. Lieutenant Dawn Richardson-Cain was at least on speaking terms with Heero, having met him through Moira-Selene's older sister Jessica; Detective Michael "Mick" O'Lara, on the other hand, had recently moved from Los Angeles and only knew Heero from word of mouth. Moira-Selene knew Dawn and the badass reputation that followed her, but Moira-Selene also knew that she wouldn't push Heero where he didn't want to be led. O'Lara, about whom Moira-Selene knew little, was another story. She had a bad feeling about how this would turn out.

"Maybe we should talk outside," O'Lara suggested.

Heero looked like he was about to protest until Moira-Selene assured him, "You can speak outside the door. You'll be able to see through the window if there is a change."

Heero looked at his wife one last time before rising to his feet. Quietly he walked out of the room with Dawn and O'Lara on his heels. There was silence until the door was slightly cracked and they were in relative privacy. Dawn, being the higher ranked between the two officers, spoke first.

"I appreciate you talking with us, Heero. I know you'd rather be by Danie's side, so we will try to make this short."

Heero had a slight distaste for the local law enforcement save for the woman in front of him (he didn't know O'Lara yet, so how could he judge?) so he merely said, "Thank you."

They started off with verifying what Heero had told the first officer on scene. He answered them clearly and concisely, suffering through it because it was standard operating procedure. Then they moved on to the harder questions.

"Do you know of anybody who would want Danie hurt or killed?" Dawn inquired.

The truth was, it could have been just about anyone. Heero took a moment but could not come up with anyone that posed an immediate threat. "No," he answered. "She never told me of anyone who wanted to wish her harm nor was there anyone who threatened her to get to me."

O'Lara quirked an eyebrow but said nothing. Dawn continued. "We found a file among her belongings, and we are not quite sure what it means. We are not quite sure, but we think this is what her attackers were after. None of her other belongings were disturbed. Her wallet contains cash and credit cards that were never touched so robbery was not a possibility."

"A file?" Heero frowned at Dawn. For a moment, she said nothing. O'Lara slid her a critical look.

"He has to see it," Dawn told her partner in reference to the look he was giving her. "So stop looking at me like I just peed on your foot."

"I beg to differ, Dawn," O'Lara said.

She returned that remark with a glare and slipped a file folder from her bag. "We're hoping you could help us shed some light on this scenario," Dawn said as she handed Heero a file folder. Heero took it, frowning, and opened it.

He scanned the page. It looked like a copy of another document that had seen some wear, but the quality was good enough that the picture included amidst the data was startlingly lifelike. The girl in the picture—a surveillance photo taken from a camera across the street from a high-class prep school—looked as if she could walk off of the page as she was captured in mid-step. It was eerie.

Even more startling was the name on the top of the document: _Abigail Taylor_.

On the inside, Heero's mind raced. He tried to come up with a reason why Danie would have a file about a girl he had just learned about that very same day. The surveillance photo did not clearly display Abigail Taylor's features, but he could tell that she was dark-haired. _Could she be part of the puzzle?_ Heero thought. Apparently, she was part of the "suppressed"—whatever that meant. On the outside, his eyes didn't flicker, his breath remained steady.

That would help because he was about to lie.

"Abigail Taylor," Heero murmured as if trying to recall the name. Then he shook his head. "I don't think I've heard of her. Maybe it was work-related."

"We plan on talking to Takeshi Arashi next," Dawn told him. "But maybe you could also—"

At that moment Dawn's cell phone rang. She excused herself to answer it, leaving Heero and O'Lara for a mere forty-five seconds. When she returned, there was something in her eyes that gave Heero the impression that their interview was over for the moment.

"That was the wonderful Dr. Danner," Dawn informed her partner. "He has an anomaly he wants us to see." To Heero she said, "Heero, let us know when Danie awakens. We'd like to talk to her."

Heero agreed and bade them goodbye, having the sense that their involvement with one another was long from over. He lingered a little while longer in the hallway. As his mind worked, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and sent Duo a text message. _Abigail Taylor. DOB 7 March 97. Search and locate._

Duo's timely reply: _Rodger that, buddy. Hey how is Danie doing? She okay?_

_She is fine,_ Heero replied succinctly. _Just do this for me. Will explain later._ With that, Heero put his phone away and retook his space beside his wife.

Duo and Nicole showed up twenty minutes later. Before anything could start, Duo sent Nicole away for some coffee so that he could talk to Heero alone amid Danie's sleeping form. She initially balked but eventually left them alone.

"What did you find?" Heero asked when the door was closed and Nicole was out of earshot.

Sighing, Duo leaned on the wall and took out his PDA. "There wasn't much to be had honestly. You'd think the girl was some sort of secret agent or something the way her information has been blocked. I found out that she lives in New York, but there is no address. I could probably finesse more when I get home and ease past the blocks someone put on her profile."

"Don't worry about it. I can do it myself." Heero's eyebrows furrowed. "Why would someone go through so much trouble for an eleven-year-old girl?" he mused aloud.

"Maybe someone doesn't want the world to know about her," Duo suggested. "Stranger things have happened, Heero. People have tried to conceal less with more effort."

Heero shook his head. "It's not just that." He looked at his sleeping wife. He wondered what secrets she kept away from him on the inside that she did not reveal. The question still nagged at him: _what does Abigail Taylor mean to Danie and Arashi Corp?_ If this was merely work-related, then the issue would be less grave than he presumed it was. He would demand that Danie finally quit her job and the problem would be resolved. But he had a feeling it wouldn't be that simple.

"You mean there's more to this?" Duo sounded incredulous. His eyebrow raised as he followed Heero's gaze. "Does Danie know her somehow?" Heero quickly filled him in on the conversation he'd had with Lieutenant Cain and Detective O'Lara. Duo's expression turned thoughtful. "So wait. Let me get this straight. The guys that attacked her were probably after a file on this Abigail Taylor?"

"The police seem to think so. And I agree with them in this case. It's far too much of a coincidence."

Duo blinked. "Coincidence? Okay, you're gonna have to explain because you've got me on this one." Heero explained about the mysterious email he'd gotten that morning and the documents that had been attached to them. Slowly, Duo's mouth went slack as he put two and two together. "The message," he said simply. "So she's part of a secret that has to do with someone you love—"

"Relena Peacecraft," Heero remembered softly.

Duo was so shocked he nearly slid off of the wall. "Relena? What the hell does—?" He quieted and shook his head. "That's twice today," he muttered. "Someone's trying to tell us something."

It was Heero's turn to be confused. "Twice today, Duo?"

Duo waved a hand. "It's a long story. I'm more intrigued to know what Relena has to do with this."

"There was a note in one of the documents that Relena was involved with the child I believe is Abigail Taylor's twin sister," Heero told him. "She went missing not long after Relena was murdered. In fact, if my suspicions are correct, the events perhaps happened simultaneously."

"Simultaneously? Man, if I didn't know any better I'd say—"

Duo did not get a chance to finish. Nicole reentered the room then, brandishing coffee and pastries from the cafeteria a few floors down. As the door latched shut behind her, she fixed Heero and Duo with suspicious looks. She could sense something in the air as soon as she had stepped into the room and she didn't like the feeling that they were keeping something from her.

"What?" Duo asked innocently.

"You know _what_. Sending me off like some little errand girl. You ought to be ashamed."

"No," Duo said, "just hungry. Since Danie here got into a skirmish and nearly landed herself in a pine box, I'm gonna miss Kristana's birthday cake. Heard it was gonna be a stunner, too."

Tight-lipped, Nicole stared at him a moment before beaning him with the Danish from downstairs. Hard as a rock, it felled him almost instantly. Heero merely shook his head and fought a sigh.

"Hey?" Duo protested from the floor, rubbing his head. "What the hell was that for?"

"Well," Nicole began archly, "you wanted a stunner—so you got one. _Bon appétit_."

* * *

On the East Coast, eleven-year-old Abigail Josephine Taylor tiptoed out of her bedroom, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. She was supposed to be in bed, after all. As she padded down the hall in socked feet, Abigail could feel the change in the air like one could tell a really hellacious storm was on its way. She felt her mother's weakening spirit and knew, while dread pooled in her belly, that the end was quickly approaching.

The cancer treatments, as harrowing and grave as they were, had been token, mostly done to dispel the whispers that Harlan Taylor had married Victoria Petrie for nothing more than her family's influence and wealth. No one knew this for sure—that is, except for Abigail herself. She knew things that others didn't want her to know. And she couldn't help it either; she more she tried to suppress her gift, the stronger it would come back the next time.

She was also bound by her love for her mother. Victoria was not aware of her husband's subterfuge, and Abigail was not sure how it would affect her in this weakened state. Victoria was not a woman to be pushed around, but she loved Harlan dearly and believed in their union. Her response, if she were strong enough to give it, would be brutal. Victoria never did anything halfway when she was scorned. Sometimes Abigail wondered if the cancer had developed on its own—or had been of Harlan's making because of the very fact of Victoria's temper.

Abigail hovered outside her parents' bedroom door. Underneath the pale moonlight, Victoria slept with the aid of morphine to dull the pain. Her pallid olive skin was a thin cover over weary bones. Abigail was glad that she was out of her misery for the moment but feared for the day that she would leave this world. It was quickly approaching.

Abigail did not like to think what life would be like without Victoria around. She was not very fond of her father. And if anyone knew the indignities to which he subjected her, they would certainly agree. She was not a lab rat. She was not a test dummy. She was a normal eleven-year-old girl—well, except for her abilities. Harlan seemed to forget that in his quest to study her and use her talent for his own gain. With Victoria sick and out of commission a lot of the time, he could be less restrained about testing Abigail. When Victoria died—it was a sad, but sure, certainty—she would be locked away like some specimen. She'd already had the nightmares. They had felt too real just to be images created by an overactive imagination. They were a warning. _Something must be done._

A voice from the room down the hall diverted Abigail's attention. She listened to her father's voice filtering out from his study. It took some moments before she understood what he was saying.

"What do you mean he's _dead_? I _thought_ I told you…" _Silence._ "I know we're dealing with someone far more dangerous than we initially had presumed. But she is a woman. She will make a mistake. They often do." There was a silence. Something inside of Abigail had her drifting closer, peeking into the room where she could not be seen in the shadows. Harlan Taylor, with his head of prematurely gray hair shorn close to his scalp, had his back to the door. "If I had my way, the bitch would have been dead eleven years ago, but lord knows Prescott botched that to hell and back."

Abigail watched as Harlan slipped a photograph from a pile of papers. It was a headshot of who Abigail figured was the woman in question. The raven-haired woman was beautiful but unsmiling, and Abigail found something familiar about her features.

Without warning, she was sucked down into a kaleidoscopic vortex with a plethora of flashes. _A teenage girl crying. Two newborns under harsh lights and examination by invasive machines, one squirming and one sleeping peacefully. A group of men in a room signing papers and drinking champagne. The sound of a gunshot and a man falling to the ground. A woman with tear-filled eyes standing yards away in a long, black coat in a graveyard._

With eyes wide, Abigail returned to the present with a jolt as she usually did when having a vision. She heard Harlan speaking and shifted into the shadows while she acclimated to her surroundings.

"Well, as long as she doesn't come here, then we don't have to worry about it." _Pause._ "There's no telling what that file said honestly or who the source was. But don't you worry—I'm gonna find out where the leak is. I don't want her knowing about Abigail. That would compromise everything."

_What? What did that mean?_ She tried to listen for another clue, but heard nothing more. It was then that she decided she'd better get back to bed before she was discovered.

_That would compromise everything._ That statement trailed Abigail like a shadow, sinuously sliding in and out of her mind as she drifted back to her bedroom. So the woman knew something about her and possibly what was being done to her. Abigail pondered upon this as she pulled her covers up to her chin and stared at the ceiling. There was someone out there with a key to the cage. But who was she?

When she finished thinking, she came to a conclusion: _she was going to find the mysterious black-haired woman_.

Her life depended on it.

* * *

When Heero left close to dawn, Danie's eyes opened as if she had been wide awake the whole time.

She still ached, but there was a bigger problem at hand. She could not remain in bed.

The snatches she had caught of Duo and Heero's exchange from hours before echoed in her head, nagging her with doubt, fear, and worry. What was it exactly that they—whoever they were—were doing with Abigail that required her to be kept from the world? And even more, what did _Relena Peacecraft_ have to do with it?

That particular question had her rising to a sitting position. She had been blind to what had happened in the room, but she hadn't been stupid. She had detected the emotion in the way Heero had spoken Relena's name, and it had caused a strange feeling in her chest. She still loved him, dammit. She always would. So that had hurt her greatly, especially in the mulling over it.

Daniella Thomas didn't stay hurt for long. It was far too corrosive. So she went right to the indignation and it built until it was an inferno in her heart.

She'd take care of that husband of hers. _Yes, she would._ She muttered those words as she disconnected herself from the machines. For now, she had another aspect of the mystery to worry about.

Over the past ten years, she had come to realize that the children that she had brought into this world had their own lives and she had nothing to do with them. The men who had blatantly taken advantage of her had made it difficult for her to obtain information about them; even with Arashi's tutelage under her belt her attempts had been discovered and she was "warned" that under no circumstances she should try to research them. They would have been killed if she had persisted. Avery and his associates had made that glaringly clear, especially that time in Valladolid seven—or eight—years ago. She hated to think what would have happened if she hadn't run into Crys and…

She gritted her teeth at the thought of Heero. _Later,_ she told herself. _Focus on the now—getting out of here._

Avery was dead, along with that asshole Richards. She was done with being scared and discreet. If anyone came after her, there would be hell to pay. It was time she _really_ lived up to her codename.

* * *

Wide awake and anxious, Heero headed to the Agency where he could be alone.

At this hour, the other guys and Nicole would still be in bed or at home or both. So he would be alone. He powered up his computer and continued his search on Abigail Taylor while also doing a more painful search—one on his own wife.

Like Duo had sometime earlier, Heero ran into blocks trying to access Abigail Taylor's profile on several databases. Rolling up his sleeves, he manually set up his computer to try to hack past them while he performed a deep-level search on Danie.

He received the first shock when perusing Danie's medical, housing, and employment records. A whole chunk of time from ages sixteen to eighteen was missing. She was listed as working for the Stella Modeling Agency from ten to sixteen, then at Arashi Corp at eighteen until the present moment. As for her medical records, there were no indications that she had any official medical treatment during the lapse in employment. She had lived with her mother in Audbone Heights until she was sixteen and then popped up in various places before settling in Gracia at twenty-one. It was as if she had suddenly dropped off the face of the Earth in the interim.

The holes were created so cleanly Heero believed they were deliberate. _What did Danie have to hide?_

A beep sounded from the computer, signaling that he had gotten past a block on his Abigail Taylor search. He switched screens and found a more detailed profile of Abigail, but still no picture. He saved the profile so that his own database could be updated with the information. He shifted back to the search on his wife for a moment, putting Abigail Taylor on the back burner.

With an inspired thought, he attempted to hack into the database of Arashi Corp personnel files and was only partly successful. The lower level employees were easy to look up, but the higher he went, the stronger the security became almost to the point where Heero became suspicious. A little security was expected with a company as successful as Arashi Corp, but this was ludicrous.

"Takeshi Arashi," Heero murmured aloud. "What are you hiding from the world?"

Before he could consider it any further, a buzzing jolted him out of his thoughts. He picked up the cell phone, frowning, and answered it. "Heero Yuy."

"Heero? It's Moira-Selene."

Heero stiffened a bit at the worried note he detected in her voice. "What's happened?"

"It's Danie. She…" When Moira-Selene resumed her sentence, her voice was filled with utter bafflement. "She's gone."

Heero said nothing as his mind stumbled on the information. Moira-Selene babbled on about a knocked out orderly and a couple of stunned pedestrians, but Heero was hardly listening. When the previous statement sank in, he felt confusion for a brief moment, before alarm and disbelief had him rising from his desk chair and scooping up his car keys in one swift, smooth movement.

"How long ago?" Heero demanded in a low, dangerous tone.

"I don't—"

"_How. Long. Ago."_ Heero repeated with more emphasis as he exited the office suite.

Moira-Selene didn't answer this time; a stronger, more aggressive female voice bombarded the line instead. One that Heero instantly recognized. "Would you throttle back, Yuy? She doesn't know where Danie is, and neither do we—so stop acting like an asshole before I yank you through this phone line and give you something to bitch about."

Heero's nostrils flared. There was no woman more audacious than Jessica Thomas. "I'm not interested in waging a pissing match with you, Jessica. I want an answer to my question."

"We don't have one yet," Jessica shot back just as fiercely. "They're checking the cameras right now. Have some patience would you?"

"If I waited on you to take care of this, Danie would end up dead," Heero spat. "So no thank you."

"Jessica, please." Moira-Selene's voice was strained. "We cannot bicker like this. Danie is…" She trailed off, and he heard voices in the background asking Moira-Selene if she was okay. After a long, humming moment, Moira-Selene suddenly said with clarity, "She's… She went to your house."

Heero blinked and paused, bemused. Then something inside him clicked, and he had a feeling that she had known where Danie was without really _knowing_exactly where she was. One of the upsides of being a twin. He knew all about it. "Thank you," he said gruffly, and hung up.

* * *

At the Yuy house, Danie let herself in and went straight upstairs.

She knew she didn't have much time before they realized that she was gone and came looking for her there. So she gathered the essentials—comfortable clothes and shoes, her stash of passports (all in different names, of course, should the need arise for her to change her identity), a couple of weapons, some cash, and her purse (which had a legion of goodies all in itself)—and tried to do it quickly. It was cowardly she knew, but she didn't want to deal with anyone at the moment. Even Heero.

"_I wish you knew,"_ Danie murmured rhythmically, softly singing a couple of lines of "Suddenly Monday." _"I wish I could tell you…"_

Suddenly something inside of her stilled. She felt him standing there even before he uttered a word. It was one of the things that made her perfect at her craft. Not to mention, how could you _not_react at the mere presence of the man you loved?

"So why don't you?"

_Damn._Fate could be a ruthless, cold-blooded bitch sometimes. She knew that. So Danie turned and steeled herself against the battle that was to come in the war that had waged for far, far too long.

* * *

**Up Next:** _Danie and Heero's Showdown..._


	8. Showdown

**Author's Notes: **_Phew! It's been a long time, and I apologize. I haven't had the time to finish this chapter until today. I was listening to "Showdown" (Britney Spears) and "Northern Star" (Melanie C) while writing the bulk of this chapter, so they are the themes to the chapter so to speak. If it were a movie, I think it would be awesome to hear and watch the two scenes go back and forth. But that is just me._

_Danie and Heero finally have a showdown of sorts, during which she reveals something very important. (I don't think that fight was epic enough; I'm too close to it to tell.) Anne also reveals something to Shannon, but I think most of you already know what she's going to tell her. ;)_

_I want to thank_ **botanbutton** _for reviewing. I appreciate it very much! And yeah, I love Nicole, too. Who doesn't?_

* * *

**VII**

The only thing that kept Anne sane in her necessary confinement was the occasional updates from her secret friend. To Shannon, he was a pen-pal from an undisclosed time and place. For Anne, he was the only link from a nebulous, elusive past to an equally nebulous, elusive future. It was one of the few concessions Anne made for freedom because the circumstances were so serious. She understood that the slightest slip would land her and Shannon dead.

Shannon was in her room doing homework and Anne was alone in her study, her lightweight laptop on her thighs. The connection was _uber_-secure, and the person with whom she chatted never used names or places. Their conversation was in code, able to be misunderstood upon first glance. Secrecy was always paramount; if the wrong people found their exchanges, all of their efforts over the past ten years would have been for nothing. Anne hated wasting time.

She logged into the secret chatroom and waited for her friend to appear. She was rewarded a handful of heartbeats later with a salutation.

_**TheChameleon: **__hello buttercup_

They had come up with her nickname after sharing a mutual affection for the movie _The Princess Bride,_and one day he began to refer to her as the golden-haired protagonist. Anne smiled faintly and responded to the instant message.

_**Buttercup: **__hello leon_  
_**Buttercup: **__catch any weasels lately?_  
_**TheChameleon: **__not yet but soon_  
_**TheChameleon: **__though there might be a few complications in the game plan_

Anne frowned at that. He had promised the last time they had talked a deadline for the end of the charade. She had been looking forward to that like the end of a fast. She had been starving for freedom, even more so in the past few weeks. She could not fully explain why; perhaps the promise of freedom had awoken her old self.

_**Buttercup: **__complications as in delays?_

In the fifteen seconds that it took him to answer her question, Anne stared at the screen uneasily.

_**TheChameleon: **__no just complications_  
_**TheChameleon: **__it seems that we have a tiger on the prowl and she's after blood_  
_**Buttercup: **__should i be afraid of this new development?_  
_**TheChameleon: **__i wish i didn't have to bother you with it but i don't want you to be vulnerable because you didn't know_

He usually didn't tell her anything that wasn't important for their time was limited. The fact that he had mentioned this planted a seed of worry inside of her. In their little secret menagerie of coded language, there had been weasels, foxes, and birds but never a tiger.

_**Buttercup:**__who is she?_  
_**Buttercup:**__do you know who she is?_  
_**TheChameleon:**__i know of her_  
_**TheChameleon:**__she is very dangerous so please for me try and stay safe_  
_**TheChameleon:**__i would recommend that you stay at home as much as you can_

Anne remembered the permission slip that lay on her desk right that very moment. Shannon had excitedly given it to her earlier that day, and it had been a blessing that when she had been reading the paper she hadn't been around any sharp or heavy objects. _The Peacecraft Memorial, Sanc Kingdom. August 26. Students will travel to the destination by train. Parents are encouraged to accompany students on this trip._

_**Buttercup: **__that might not be possible_  
_**Buttercup: **__we have to make a trip to hallowed ground_

She imagined that he was quite shocked at that answer. Usually she listened to him—he often had her best interest in mind—but now she was being stubborn. Not for the sake of being stubborn, of course, but because she saw no other way to resolve the situation. If she didn't go, Shannon would want a reason. She was not prepared to fully explain her connection to the Sanc Kingdom. Not yet. So she _had_ to go.

_**TheChameleon: **__you cannot make that trip_  
_**TheChameleon: **__it is too risky_  
_**Buttercup: **__how can i explain it away?_  
_**Buttercup: **__she doesn't know and i would rather it remain that way_  
_**TheChameleon: **__maybe it's time_

After gaping at the screen for a few seconds, Anne shook her head vigorously as she typed as if he could see her movements, see her desperation. She had worked so hard to make sure that Shannon knew not of the peril that threatened to swoop down from the sky at any given moment. She wasn't going back on that now. Not for anyone.

_**Buttercup: **__she needs to be protected from this_  
_**Buttercup: **__it's far from the right time_  
_**Buttercup: **__she's too young_  
_**TheChameleon: **__she is not too young_

Fury churned in her like a violent storm and it came through her fingertips as they clacked feverishly over the keys. How _dare_ he try to act like he knew what was good for _her_ daughter? Had he been there for her first sentence and her first day of school and the nightmares and Barbie dolls and marathons of _Sesame Street_? No, he hadn't.

_**Buttercup: **__she is my daughter damn you_  
_**TheChameleon: **__buttercup i think of her as mine too_  
_**Buttercup: **__how could you possibly think that?_  
_**TheChameleon: **__it's simple_  
_**TheChameleon: **__i love you both_  
_**TheChameleon: **__i always have_

Breathless as if hit with a blow, Anne sat back in her chair. All of the anger drained out of her, leaving astonishment behind.

She had not been expecting that. She had been expecting an ill-timed display of male chauvinism and superiority. Instead, she got a moment of frankness that was beyond anything that she had ever believed. In this life of artifice, it was the greatest thing anyone had ever given her.

_**Buttercup: **__why didn't you tell me this before?_  
_**TheChameleon: **__things had to be done_  
_**TheChameleon: **__there was no room in the whirlwind for my emotions, which could have put everyone in danger_

Anne wiped a tear from her eye. She remembered meeting him ten years ago in a dim, dark room with her older brother hovering at her elbow. He had been mostly in shadow. The only thing that had any color or light on him was a unique ring adorned with onyx and opal stones he had worn. He had regarded her with no emotion at all, had laid out their plans as if it were directions from a cough syrup box.

But then there were moments after their elaborate pretense when his veneer slipped. In the days after the incident when they were hiding out and waiting for a place to settle, Shannon had taken a liking to his long hair, tugging at it every moment she got, and he had tickled her. When they had been riding in the van, Shannon sleeping in her arms, a radio transmission reported her death as she listened with her own two ears, and he had grasped her hand for a measure of comfort as she wept. Other than that, he was brisk and perfunctory. She understood now, more than she did before, that if he had shown anymore emotion it would have weakened her for the long road ahead. That didn't make the realization or the fact that it had to be done any easier to bear.

_**TheChameleon: **__it wasn't our time_  
_**TheChameleon: **__if it is meant to be, it will come_  
_**TheChameleon:**__go to hallowed ground_  
_**TheChameleon: **__i will make sure you get safely home_

He staggered her again with that statement. Maybe he truly did love her…

_**Buttercup: **__but how?_  
_**TheChameleon: **__i have my ways_  
_**TheChameleon: **__we will figure out something_  
_**Buttercup: **__thank you_  
_**TheChameleon: **__anything_

With that, the chat ended. Anne rose from the chair, anxiety a rock in her belly. As the computer powered down, she skirted the desk and prepared to go up the stairs to Shannon's room.

If he could take a chance for her, she would take one for him.

In her head, she automatically began to prepare what she was about to tell her daughter. Every word counted. Even though it seemed a rather small issue in the big scheme of things, she understood that a misused word slung in the wrong direction would topple their whole world.

* * *

They stood face-to-face now, vulnerable, unhappy, and outraged. Danie had shed the hospital scrubs she had escaped in and now wore black pants and a black shirt. She wore her long black hair loose.

"Well," Danie said simply, "that was quick."

Heero, of course, was not amused by the remark. Danie really wasn't in a laughing mood either, but her current state prompted insolence to the surface. It was better than being sad or unsettled, in her opinion.

"I would like an explanation as to why you are not in room 5146 at Gracia Memorial," Heero told her, taking one step closer. She eyed him warily. "And then you can tell me about Abigail Taylor."

Something about his tone put Danie's back up. Suddenly she was indignant. How _dare_ he stand there and act all sanctimonious? That _asshole_. Treating her like she was an errant teenager. Oh, she had a little surprise for him all right.

"Hmm…how fun it is to share," Danie quipped, tone ironic. "So I guess since we're _sharing_, you can tell me all about your little _Relena._"

Heero's expression didn't change—he was very good at masking his emotions—but something in those Prussian blue depths flickered and gave him away. Danie didn't glean any satisfaction from that, however. She felt worse, in fact. She didn't like the sensation at all.

"Relena was in the past, and whatever happened between us was also in the past," Heero countered. "She's not important now."

Heero could see something flash in Danie's eyes at that remark and braced himself for the outburst of temper for which she was notorious. He was prepared to deal with that. It would have been easier than the non-response from her to which he was accustomed. Much to his shock, she straightened and gave a nod, as if his statement had meant something entirely different to her than was intended.

"Well," she began in a disconcertingly breezy tone, "it seems that we have to resume this exchange when I return." She strode for the doorway near which he was standing…

…But he grabbed her left arm to yank her back so roughly that she stumbled backwards into a chair. She cursed and gritted her teeth as her shoulder throbbed with pain.

"We are not done," Heero informed her in a low, dangerous tone.

"Like hell we aren't," Danie snapped as she battled back pain. "You're not willing to be straight with me about Relena so we have nothing more to discuss."

"Relena is not the problem here. You're grasping, Danie."

Danie lifted her head and glared at him. "You actually think that's true. That pisses me off, Heero." She straightened again. "I haven't the time to be arguing with you. I've someplace I need to go."

Face stony, Heero walked up to her. He stood over her and placed a hand on the back of the chair she was sitting in. "You're not going anywhere until I get the answers I want."

Danie stared up at him levelly. "Heero, _get out_ of my way."

Despite the underlying threat, he stood firm, mustered up some insolence himself. "Make me."

At first, Danie looked shocked, then a flash alighted her eyes before she narrowed them. Ah—_there _was that temper she had suppressed earlier.

The battle lines were drawn. Would she cross them?

* * *

Anne paused at the doorway of Shannon's room, sickness rolling around inside of her. Shannon was just a few feet in front of her at her mahogany desk. Her feet tapped rhythmically and the end of her pencil made scratching sounds as it traveled across the page. Anne could hear tinny music coming out from Shannon's earphones and Shannon herself singing "Burning Up" under her breath. Anne discouraged Shannon listening to music while studying as it was a distraction, but Anne felt a sudden wave of love wash over her. And dread. She knew the feeling of innocence stripped away too soon and the rawness that soon took its place. _This is going to be hard…_

As if feeling her there, Shannon straightened in her slightly bent posture and turned. She gave a little gasp and tore the buds out of her ears. If it had been a less stressful time, Anne would have laughed.

"Um, Mother," Shannon began hurriedly, "I was just—"

Anne shook her head gently. "It's okay, sweetie. I'm not going to yell at you." She inhaled, trying to steady her jittery nerves and thumping heart. "This is about your field trip to the Sanc Kingdom."

Shannon was smart enough to catch the gravity in her mother's face now that apprehension had faded. She frowned a touch. "What about it?"

"There is something very important you need to know about Sanc," Anne responded. "And about me."

* * *

The tension between them hummed like a struck tuning fork. Something inside of Danie had shifted, and Heero was too angry to notice. She had pulled back a moment, unwilling to do anything unnecessary. Hurting him anymore was unnecessary. But then again…

"You don't know what you're asking for," Danie said softly.

…He didn't know what she was or what she could do. Was that his fault…or hers?

"I know exactly what I'm asking for," Heero countered, his voice a low, rolling rumble of dangerousness. "I'm asking you to do something. I'm asking you to do something instead of sitting there—"

"I still don't think you get it," Danie remarked tersely.

Heero, of course on a roll, spoke right over her. "I'm asking for results for fuck's sake so stop looking at me as if I'm asking you to burn your favorite stiletto heels and say something or _do_ something—"

She sat in silence, realizing that nothing good was going to come of this. If she acquiesced to his demand, she'd be setting herself back. She had things to resolve, dammit. She didn't have time for a marital dispute.

So she obeyed him and punched him square in the mouth with her right fist.

* * *

Shannon put the music player aside as her mother pulled up a nearby chair. "What do you mean?" She tilted her head, scrutinizing Anne with watchful eyes.

"Well," Anne began, "the thing is…I…" She decided to start out as broadly as possible. "I was born in the Sanc Kingdom before it fell the first time."

Shannon's eyes went wide with shock. There were not many people who could say that about themselves, and to have that piece of information on the heels of learning about the place in school was staggering to the eleven-year-old.

"Wow…" Shannon regarded her with wonder. "So what was it like? Did you ever get to meet the royal family?"

Anne looked down at her clasped hands for a moment before replying, "I don't remember much of my time there."

"Oh." Then her eyes brightened as something occurred to her. "So that's why you had the scrapbook! Because that pacifist lady was from Sanc and so were you." When Anne didn't speak and looked at her meaningfully, Shannon wilted a bit. There was something she wasn't getting, but she didn't know what it was. "Wait…is there more?"

Anne nodded. "Quite a bit more."

* * *

It was not surprising that the blow had caught Heero off-guard, for he had not been expecting that level of power and accuracy. Oh. Well. _That_ was what she meant by _you don't know what you're asking for_.

Heero stared up at her as she rose from the chair to her feet. His lower lip bled, and he wiped the blood away with the back of his hand. Luckily none of his teeth were broken, though, it wouldn't be the first time he'd gotten punched in the mouth.

He shook off the unsteadiness and rose to his feet. Danie shifted, taking up a seasoned fighter's stance. His eyebrows twitched.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Danie?" Heero asked.

"Let's get one thing clear," Danie responded. "I don't _want_ to do this. I would rather you let me go without a fight, but it looks as if you won't so I have to resort to fighting you."

"You don't trust me enough to talk to me."

"And you don't trust me enough to let me go."

Eyes still on her, he bent toward the bed and reached between the mattresses of their bed. Before she could blink, she was staring down the barrel of a gun.

It was _Danie's_ turn to be surprised.

* * *

Shannon was surprised, too. "What do you mean, Mother?"

Anne stared at her as the tears welled up from deep inside, the words she had prepared dying on her lips. Frustrated, she stood and went to Shannon's window and rested her forehead on the cool glass. _Can I really do this? Can I really admit the truth?_ She closed her eyes. _What if she hates me for lying to her?_

"Mother?" Shannon was more than merely perplexed now; she was scared. Anne could hear it in her voice, which didn't make any of this easier. She sucked in a breath and firmed her lips to keep them from trembling.

"Promise me," Anne managed around the lump in her throat.

"What?" Shannon asked breathlessly. "Promise what?"

Moments hummed by. Anne turned away from the window and appraised her daughter standing in front of her. No, potential anger was not important. Shannon had been angry with her numerous times during her short life, but she got over it. She would get over this. She was too smart not to.

Discretion, on the other hand, was the most important thing. And if Shannon was going to be in the know, she had to agree.

"That you will never ever tell anyone else what I am about to tell you," Anne responded, voice a little steadier.

Wordlessly with eyes wide, Shannon nodded.

"Good." Anne took Shannon's hand and focused on her eyes. "Sweetie, this may be hard for you to understand, and I know you won't fully grasp everything until you're older. If I had my way, you wouldn't know any of this at all. The first thing you need to know is that…Anne Katherine Meredith…is not my real name."

There was a long length of silence before Shannon burst out laughing.

* * *

As the fizz of adrenaline filled her, Danie recovered from her surprise. Despite the earlier vow she had made to herself not to hurt Heero anymore than she had to, her mind filled with tactical maneuvers; she was officially on auto pilot. The pain in her shoulder diminished to a slight ache. Her sight sharpened. _It was on_.

"I will not ask you again," Heero said. "Tell me what I want to know."

Heero clearly expected her to stand down at this point. After all, she did have a _gun_ pointed at her. And from the subtext she had caught over the years alone, she should have been frightened of her husband's prowess with a firearm. But she wasn't. Yep, she was doped up on adrenaline, folks. What did you expect? It was _on_.

"The only thing I have to say," Danie began in a low tone, "is that doing this your way has earned you an ass-kicking."

"You can't kick my ass, Danie," Heero said with no inflection in his tone. "You wouldn't dare to."

_Aw shit… _He had really done it now. "Watch me," Danie bit out.

As her eyes narrowed in anger and her temper finally burst, she lashed out with her right leg as hard as she could and aimed for his gun hand.

* * *

Anne stared at her daughter, eyes pained. "Shannon…"

Shannon's giggles still filled the room despite Anne's one-word warning. "God, Mother—you had me fooled for a moment. That was a pretty good joke—"

Anne grabbed her by the shoulders and gave her one good shake. "This is not a laughing matter, dammit!" The mirth died in Shannon's eyes and they went wide again. "I am not _playing_ with you!"

"Then tell me!" Shannon shot back shakily. Ashamed, Anne released her as she tried to channel her calm and lowered her head. "Tell me what it is you mean to tell me and stop jerking me about—"

Anne murmured something under her breath and had Shannon biting off the end of her sentence. When it dawned on her what Anne had said, she ran to her backpack and yanked out her history book. She rapidly flipped through the pages until she got to the chapter on the war. On page three thirty-three, there was a large color photo of the former Queen of the World.

She brought the book near to her mother's face and compared the two images. There were slight differences in the nose, but the shape of the eyes and the mouth were identical. As all of the pieces combined to create a coherent assessment, Shannon felt an unprecedented wave of shock and awe wash over her.

The book flopped to the floor, unheeded by either one of them. Shannon slumped to her knees, then sat on the backs of her calves, unable to stand. After a long moment, she said, "Leave."

Anne looked at her incredulously. She had expected she would be stunned, but this? "Shannon—?"

"Please," Shannon persisted, her voice insistent.

Anne stared at her for a long moment, the girl for whom she had risked it all. Then, because she loved her, she rose and left the room. Wondering if she had made a mistake.

* * *

The gun went careening into the air. Heero attempted to go after it, but Danie barreled into him with the force of a linebacker and had them flying out into the hallway. They landed on the polished wood floor with such force that his bones knocked together for one jarring moment and nearly rendered him unconscious.

Straddling him now, Danie reared up and punched him in the mouth again. Before she could pummel him with a second blow, he caught her fist and twisted her wrist enough to have her growling in pain.

"Shit!" she hissed.

"I'm no longer fighting fair," Heero grunted and pushed at her hurt shoulder. She screeched with pain and doubled over for long enough for Heero to reverse their positions. He held her down, putting pressure on her shoulders. "Who the hell are you?"

"I don't think you have all millennium for me to answer that question," Danie retorted. "Especially not when I'm kicking your ass."

"Kicking my ass? Hardly." He cursed loudly as she head-butted him. He growled at the pain and disorientation and let up on her shoulders. She kicked him in the stomach so that she could get away from him. She achingly climbed to her feet and was stumbling away when he came at her again. He grabbed her ankle and pulled her to the floor again. She had no time to move before he straddled her and had her by the hair.

"Let go of my fucking hair before I make you regret it," Danie bit out.

"I want to know who you are," Heero said, ignoring her threat. "The average woman hardly knows how to fight like this. Who taught you?"

"How many times did you screw Relena?" she shot back, earning a frustrated growl. "Yeah. That's what I thought."

"Let it go, Danie," Heero said angrily. "It's foolish for you to be jealous of a dead woman."

"Not when she means more to you dead than she does alive." Heero's grip on her hair loosened fractionally, so Danie used that opportunity to get out from under him.

"I found the circumstances of her death to be unacceptable," Heero admitted, on his butt on the hardwood now. He stood and met Danie's eye. "And if you knew me at all, you'd understand. Instead it's all about you and your childish insecurity."

Danie's eyes narrowed again…and she slugged him in the jaw with the force of a sledgehammer.

"Fuck you, Yuy," Danie spat heatedly, watching his eyes go flat as he worked out his jaw. "You're not the only one who thought those circumstances were unacceptable."

Heero smoldered with anger. "Stop acting like you care when you don't. You're just a selfish bitch who thinks of no one but herself."

Heero didn't find it odd that Danie wasn't as pissed that he'd just insulted her just then, but she did. "It's so unlike you to be so blind. But I can't blame you entirely because it's not all your fault. There are things you don't know about me, especially where Relena's concerned."

She knew his temper was formidable, just as much as hers, but she hadn't been expecting that blast of rage that sent him flying at her. She hit the wall in front of the stairs, and the jolt had pain radiating from every limb. His hands were wrapped around her neck threateningly, cutting off precious air. She had _definitely_ miscalculated. _Shit._

"You're going to tell me who killed Relena," Heero began in a low rumble that was meant to be threatening, "because something tells me that you know. I don't know how you know or why, but you're going to tell me."

"Firestar," Danie managed as her face became cherry red. "Ordered—_gasp_—couldn't—_gasp_—complete…"

That caught Heero off guard for a beat. If the person who had ordered to kill Relena couldn't do it, then why was she dead? It made no sense. He tightened his grip on his wife. She was lying. She must have been. "Who is Firestar? Where can I find him?"

"You're…looking at him…asshole," Danie retorted haltingly, then kicked him.

Heero went backwards, but he hadn't loosened his hold on Danie, so they both went careening down the stairs together, each aiding the other in their descent. Since Heero had fallen first, his body took the brunt of the beating.

The momentum of the fall caused Danie to go careening into the hallway table so hard that it fell over and broke. The contents of its single drawer—one that Danie had hardly ever used—were upended onto the hardwood. In the daze of pain that hazed her vision, she noticed the gun, but _she_ hadn't put it there…

Heero grunted beside her, trying to will his limbs from entropy. He was sure some bone was broken or dislocated inside of him but it didn't matter. When turned his head, he was staring down the barrel of yet another gun.

"If you're going to shoot me, go ahead and get it over with," Heero said in a voice that was firmer than he felt. "You seem to have no trouble doing that."

"I'm not going to shoot you," Danie remarked as her eyes filled with moisture. "I just want you to stay down. We've done enough damage to each other already."

Heero attempted to sit up but was unsuccessful. "We…need to talk."

"There is nothing to talk about…yet."

"Yet?" Heero let out a sardonic chuckle as his vision went hazy at the edges. "You are a piece of work. You drop a bombshell on me like this and just walk away."

"Well, you can blame that on some nameless shady sons of bitches later—'cause it's definitely their fault." Her face softened. She had to firm her lips before they trembled. "I didn't want this to happen. Know that while I'm gone."

Heero fought the urge to blink but he could feel unconsciousness descending like a heavy sheet. "Where are you going?"

Danie stared at him for a long time before tiredly dropping the gun to the ground. It clattered to the hardwood at her feet. Her voice, when it came, seemed to be far away and very faint. When Heero would try to recall this moment, he was never sure of what Danie said to him.

It had sounded suspiciously like, _To find out who's keeping my babies._

As if someone had clipped the lights of the world, everything went black.


	9. Dangerous Minds

_Sorry this took so long! Phew! Life has been loco, and I am sorry that this story has suffered from my lack of free time._

_What to say about this installment? Well, more is revealed and ties are made among characters. There are no Danie and Anne in this chapter (oh no!). But Mrs. Yuy and Ms. Meredith will reappear in full force in the next chapter. This one is mostly Heero and Nicole, who are going to dig up some very interesting information for you. _

_And in the next chapter we visit the Sanc Kingdom...so keep your eyes peeled!_

_Merry Christmas, everyone!_

* * *

**VIII**

_About a month later. August 25._

The tentative knock on the open door of Quatre Winner's WWA office was neither warranted nor expected. Quatre didn't mind interruptions from any of the members of this office, including her. When he looked up and greeted her, he noticed that an air of apprehension surrounded her. He questioned this, and was bit surprised by her answer.

"I need your help with something," she replied, "and it's not a small matter. It's pretty important."

"What is the matter?" Quatre inquired.

Nicole crossed her arms over her chest. "Heero. And Relena Peacecraft."

Staggered, Quatre let his hands go lax and sat back in his chair. "Pretty important, indeed."

{-}

A few minutes later, Nicole, with Quatre along for support (and protection, for Crys would skin Heero alive if he harmed Quatre—especially so near the twins' birth) strode across the floor to Heero's domain.

"He is not going to like this very much," Nicole said to Quatre as they walked. "I can tell you that for sure. I don't even know for sure he won't kill me."

"Heero has been under a lot of stress lately," Quatre remarked.

Nicole agreed silently. "I would be too if my wife kicked my ass and disappeared into the horizon like Wonder Woman." She shook her head. "Duo said that Heero has been trying to crack the security on the Arashi Corp personnel files like crazy since. You think Takeshi Arashi is up to something? You wouldn't have such a lockdown on your files if there was nothing to hide."

"There has been speculation for years about the exact nature of Arashi's business dealings," Quatre commented. "Nothing has ever been proven. Something has given Heero the impression that the speculation is true."

"You ain't got to stick your head in somebody's mouth to know there's bullshit coming out," Nicole quipped.

"I thought the appropriate expression was_ where there is smoke, there is fire_."

Nicole shrugged. "Same difference."

Quatre stopped then, expression unreadable as his blue-green eyes saw something she couldn't, as Nicole looked at him sidelong. They were a mere few inches outside of Heero's closed office door so when he spoke, she had to read his lips.

"Nicole," Quatre began, "whatever is going on, whatever it means—do me a favor? Please don't get any deeper than necessary. I honestly don't want you getting caught in the crossfire."

Nicole quirked an eyebrow. "Crossfire of what?"

"Nicole," Quatre pressed impatiently, "please promise. And don't question this."

Nicole let out her breath through her lips, making a raspberry. "Fine, fine," she grumbled. "Even though I hate it when y'all treat me like some feckless idiot."

Quatre chuckled. "The fact that you can use the word _feckless_ in a sentence with that tone of yours proves you're not a feckless idiot. Okay?"

Nicole fought a smile. He was trying to cheer her up. Dear, sweet Quatre. Such a sweetheart. Especially since she was about to die by Heero Yuy's hand…

Thinking of what remained behind that door, Nicole squared her shoulders. "All right. Let's do this shit." She choked when she realized who she was talking to, and cleared her throat. "Oh. Uh-_hem_. Sorry."

Quatre shook his head with mild amusement and knocked on the door. A moment later, Heero granted them entry.

Nicole walked in first. Heero was in the process of tidying his office for his long weekend and paused when he sensed them near. Nicole stared at him solemnly, no attitude at all in her stance or countenance. She seemed unnaturally apprehensive. For a girl that could lay a man out flat with a look, it was strange. Heero was immediately suspicious.

"Is there something wrong?" Heero inquired.

"Maybe not now, but in a few seconds, there will be," Nicole muttered. Quatre cleared his throat audibly and had her straightening. "Oh yeah. Right. Um. See, what had happened was…"

Heero couldn't resist an eyeroll. Any explanation that started out with _see, what had happened was_ heralded nothing but trouble. Nicole had told him that herself. "What did you do, Nicole?"

Nicole squirmed. Quatre spoke instead. "What Nicole is in fact trying to say—" he began.

"Maybe I should just show you," Nicole suggested abruptly before thrusting a thick file folder in Heero's direction for his perusal. He looked at it quizzically before dubiously accepting it. At her expectant stare, he opened it and focused on the top page.

His blood froze when one word jumped out and grabbed him by the jugular. _Relena…_

It was a report, written in Nicole prose, detailing the circumstances of Relena's sudden and untimely demise. There was little he didn't know, he discovered as he flipped through it, or that wasn't common knowledge. But the information presented to him by surprise left him feeling as if he'd been sucker-punched.

He raised his eyes to Nicole's and one word came from his lips: _Why?_

Nicole lifted a shoulder. "Honestly? I felt like I needed to know. Well, the basics at least because I didn't know what y'all were talking about at that dinner the subject came up. The more I looked into it, the more intrigued I became." She paused and took in Heero's expression before continuing. After seeing nothing immediately dangerous, she finished, "And then I started a correspondence with Mitchell Davenport."

_That_ admission gave Heero pause. He'd had a meeting with the _London Times_ reporter eight years ago that had ended badly because neither one of them had trusted the other. It had been lucky that Duo had been around or Mitchell and Heero would have both been in jail.

"You did _what_?"

"I looked up Mitchell Davenport, and we started talking about it," Nicole responded, gesturing with the paper she still held. "I didn't tell him who I was or who I worked for—just gave him the name Cleopatra Jones and enough info to make me sound legit."

Heero tossed the file aside. "So what was your point in coming to me with this? Did you want a cookie?"

She rolled her eyes. _Did I want a cookie? Asshole. _"We have a meeting with Mitchell Davenport," Nicole told him.

"We?" Heero sounded incredulous. "And when did you and I become partners?"

"_We,"_ Nicole responded, essentially shitting on his question, "have a meet with Mitchell Davenport in London tomorrow afternoon. He is willing to speak to us—that is, if you don't get the urge to bust a cap in his ass again. I think we could learn something new about this whole scenario that could solve the mystery of Relena's death."

Heero merely glared. "I fail to see what you have found that I could have possibly overlooked, Nicole."

Quatre winced. He could see the muscles and bones in Nicole's neck shift and knew what was coming next. This could get ugly. Nicole rarely unleashed attitude upon Heero, but when she did…

"Oh _really_? So you think I'm just some nosy black chick who just snoops around in people's business with no sense of integrity, logic, or finesse?" Heero's Prussian blue eyes bored holes in her skull. "Mm-hmm. I'm listening." She muttered under her breath, "You cocky bastard…"

"You have no right poking into something like this," Heero finally said. Fists clenched, bunching the paper in her grasp, Nicole tried her best not to look at him. Her temper was mounting, and Quatre could tell it was costing her to hold it in check. "This isn't just some primetime TV storyline that you and your girls sit around and chat about. This is a woman's life—a woman who salvaged the world as we know it and was senselessly killed. Have some goddamned decency, would you—?"

Nicole shifted forward, brown eyes bright with anger, and shoved her fist into Heero's rock-hard chest. He was more stunned than angry. "I'm getting you some fucking Q-tips for Christmas because obviously you didn't hear what I said," Nicole snapped. "If I didn't _have_ any decency, I wouldn't have stepped a damn foot in this damn office to tell you shit. I would have done this on my own without asking you if you wanted to be involved. I _know_ she means something to you. She means something to _all _of you. I ain't stupid, Heero." She uncurled her fingers and smoothed a piece of paper out on Heero's chest. She released it and it fluttered to the ground. "I'm boarding the plane," Nicole said as she strode out. "I'm moving forward whether you're there with me or not. So you can just kiss my natural black ass."

Quatre groaned as Nicole strode away. "Heero," he started, "listen to reason."

"I don't know how the hell you think that anything spewing forth from that woman's mouth would be equivalent to reason," Heero countered as he finished packing.

"And I don't know how the hell you think that_ nothing_ spewing forth from that lovely and shrewd young woman's mouth would be equivalent to reason," Quatre fired back, uncharacteristic anger in his eyes. "She's not like you or me—she's made that abundantly clear. However, she has proven herself to be someone worthy enough to be in our employ, and that means she is worthy enough to be in our confidence as well." He placed a hand on Heero's arm. "Are you afraid, Heero?"

_Are you afraid, Heero?_ That echoed through his mind like a taunt.

His eyes drifted down to the piece of paper. One scrawled block of text jumped out at him: _Transfer of roughly seventy-six thousand from one of the known accounts under the late Nadia Randall's possession to a mysterious account occurred 6 January 01. Bank account used to transfer money through an account belonging to Randi Albert (a known Randall alias) to the account under the name Millie Darling traced back to front company Death Bell Incorporated, which, according to various tax records, did not actually exist before AC 200. _

_Millie Darling. Death Bell Incorporated._ Heero frowned as his mind computed this. _Millie? Darling? Death Bell?_

He was not completely sure what it meant, but it was something that he _had not_ _known_ back when he had been investigating Relena's murder.

Without a word, Heero pushed past Quatre and strode out to the reception area. Curious, Quatre followed. Nicole was jerkily stuffing her belongings in a bag and muttering obscenities under her breath. All of a sudden she paused, feeling a presence at her back.

When she turned, she was the most surprised that Heero and Quatre ever had seen her.

"Who is Millie Darling?" Heero demanded after a moment.

There was a humming pause before Nicole spoke. She tossed her keys in her open purse, leaned on the desk, and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Nobody," she responded. "Whoever they are, they don't exist. Just like Death Bell. A smoke screen with something behind it. Mitchell was helping me figure that for sure with his _connections_." She rolled her eyes, then shrugged. "But my first thought was that it was a variation of Millardo and Darlian. That was what I was going to tell you, but you went all apeshit on me."

He didn't apologize. She knew he was going to react in such a way, so what was the use? It wasn't fear that propelled him forward toward her. It was a glimmer of piqued curiosity. A new link had been uncovered, and he wanted to see where it led.

"When is your flight?" Heero wanted to know.

{-}

Moira-Selene Thomas had not a boring life, at least in her opinion. She had heard the horror stories of people who'd had active social lives and did not envy them one bit. She had listened to the griping of her friends with significant others and was thankful that she carried out her existence unfettered. So when she got a visit from Duo Maxwell on August 25, she felt her peace going up in smoke.

"What do you want?" Moira-Selene demanded as he fell into step beside her as she went to her car. She had worked the graveyard shift and felt blessed by the abundant sunshine that had greeted her when she had stepped outside. What she had not liked, however, was Duo Maxwell greeting her as well.

"I just wanted to talk to you," Duo said, trying to keep up with her ground-eating stride.

"If you don't have a debilitating disease or head trauma that threatens your very existence," Moira-Selene began, "you and I don't need to talk."

"Look, I'm not mad at you for what Danie did to Heero," Duo assured her.

Blinking, Moira-Selene merely said without stopping, "Thank you, I guess."

"Have you heard from her?"

Moira-Selene had been having strange dreams about her sister, but she was hardly going to tell Duo about it. Especially when she didn't understand what it all meant. "No I haven't. No one has in fact."

"Where do you think she is?" Only then did Moira-Selene pause, eyebrow cocked. "You wouldn't tell me?"

"What is it that you want, Duo?" Moira-Selene asked, looking more than a little irked.

Duo rolled his eyes and sighed. "All right, fine. Do you remember when we were trying to find out who had that onyx and opal ring that you had claimed you'd seen that day in Spanish Gracia?"

Moira-Selene looked intrigued more than angry now. Yes, there was the hook. "Yes, I recall that. Did you find something?"

"Did I ever." Duo took that moment to pull out a folded piece of paper. "I'll just let you read it."

Moira-Selene took the paper and scanned it. After a moment she raised an eyebrow and lifted her eyes to Duo's.

"How did you get a copy of a credit card slip?" Moira-Selene asked.

Duo smirked. "I have my ways." Moira-Selene rolled her eyes and scrutinized the paper again. Duo watched as she gasped all of a sudden and dropped the paper as if it were a hot potato. Her eyes were wide and she appeared shaken. Duo moved to place his hand on her shoulder but she backed away. "Moira—?"

She shook her head vigorously. "No…I need to sit…" She sat on the rear bumper of a nearby car and sucked in lungfuls of air. No words passed between them for a long moment. Duo picked up the piece of paper and stared at her.

"What's wrong with you?" Duo wanted to know. "You look like you saw a ghost."

Moira-Selene didn't answer his question directly. Instead she said, "It's been a long day. I need some rest."

Duo took a penetrating look at her as if he sensed something she wasn't telling him. In reality, there was. But she wasn't going to reveal that.

Realizing it was futile to get her to budge, Duo only said, "Well you get home and get some rest. If you hear from Danie will you let me know?"

Moira-Selene agreed, and Duo left. Yes, on August 25, a mere eight days before her and Danie's birthday, Moira-Selene could feel the end coming for her peaceful existence and from the looks of things it would not be a quiet end.

{-}

A few hours later, Heero and Nicole found themselves sitting at a table at the back of a pub in southwestern London. Nicole nursed cranberry juice with a splash of soda water while Heero had nothing.

"So here's how it's going to go," Nicole said. "I'm going to ask all of the questions, he's gonna answer them." She paused for effect. "And you're going to take notes."

Heero's eyebrow quirked as she took a sip of her drink. "I don't see how that could be the best arrangement, Nicole."

Nicole exhaled loudly out of her nose. "You nearly landed the guy in the ER the last time you tried to talk to him," she pointed out. "The _last _thing we need to do is let you lead. We'll end up in an interrogation in some dark, dank place that'll make the Spanish Inquisition look like riding the Teacups at Disney Land."

Heero turned to her, irritated. "So why am I here, then?"

"Because if this goes to shit, you can whip out that ol' Yuy charm and shut it down." After a pause, she added, "Besides, I figured you needed a bit of a diversion."

"I didn't know you were such an expert on me, Nicole."

"Well," Nicole began hastily, looking mildly uncomfortable, "I knew you probably had you-know-who on the brain so I figured that a little mystery would be a welcome distraction from thinking about…you-know-who." Heero eyed her and she went quiet. She pulled a flowered scarf from a pocket and wrapped it around her neck.

"What is that for?" Heero inquired.

"I told Davenport I would be wearing a flowered scarf," Nicole explained. "I wasn't about to tell him what I looked like. It might have scared him off."

Heero didn't agree or disagree, just sat silently and waited with her.

The man who came and sat down in front of them was over six feet tall. His thick dark brown hair was stuffed under a ball cap and partially hid a face with aristocratic features. Sharp olive green eyes peered at them from behind plastic black-rimmed glasses, and his nondescript clothes were clean and neatly pressed. When he spied Heero sitting beside Nicole, he paused warily.

"Good evening, Mr. Davenport," Nicole greeted him.

"When we spoke on the phone, Ms. Jones, you didn't inform me that your partner was the infamous Heero Yuy," Mitchell said ironically, his words flowing out in a British drawl that would have made a lesser woman feel two feet tall. As it was, Nicole didn't feel cut off at the knees.

"Didn't feel the need," Nicole told him with a shrug. "Besides, I know how to make him mind so don't you worry about feeling threatened."

"As if I have the mental capabilities of a mere canine," Heero muttered.

"Hey," Nicole chided brightly as if she were indeed talking to a dog, "you be good now Tito and I'll give you that Scooby snack I promised. You want a Scooby snack? Sit! Stay!" She patted him on his dark-brown head and endured another Yuy glare. Eh, she didn't care by now; she was almost immune. "_Good_ boy."

If looks could kill, Heero would be up one more count of murder. Mitchell raised an eyebrow at Nicole when she turned to him and looked at him expectantly.

"So," Nicole prodded, "whatcha got for us, Mr. Davenport? I figured this conversation would be best carried out in person since the subject matter is quite…sensitive."

Mitchell's brow smoothed out and he produced a flash drive, expertly shielded in his palm. Heero raised an eyebrow as he gave it to Nicole in the guise of taking her hand.

"Oh Mitchell," she said with a coy grin, "you shouldn't have. A gift on the first date."

"The first, the last, the one, and the only," Mitchell said wryly.

"Who says it's gotta be the last?" Mitchell gave her a bland stare. "Okay, okay. I get your point."

"I'm not sure you do, but you will," Mitchell remarked. "Everything is on that thing I gave you, everything you need to know." He gave Nicole an appraising look. "You know, Ms. Jones, I find your vigor in uncovering this mystery rather intriguing. As well as your acquaintance with Mr. Yuy over there."

Nicole grinned as she smoothly put the flash drive in a pocket of her jacket. "Aw Heero and I go way back. But we ain't here to reminisce. Did you find what you were talking about before?"

A waitress came by with a scotch on the rocks for Mitchell, and he downed a large gulp before speaking again. "To be honest, Ms. Jones, what I uncovered is a little…" He paused while searching for the right word, staring at the condensation on his glass. "…Disturbing."

Nicole raised an eyebrow. "Okay—to hell with all this cloak and dagger shit. You're gonna have to elaborate on that one, and I ain't leaving until you do."

Mitchell raised his eyes to hers, around the room to make sure there were no dangerous ears within earshot, and then back to hers again. "This one thing. Then we never speak to each other again." Nicole, still staring at him intently, gave a slight nod. He shifted and leaned in. Nicole and Heero mirrored the action.

"Your discovery that the money funneled from Randi Albert's account was deposited into an account under the name of Millie Darling thrust this whole mystery into a whole new light for me," Mitchell admitted to Nicole. "We—well, most of us anyhow—in the media world had been all so grieved by the death of such an iconic and wholly innocent young woman that we were ready to point the finger at anyone, anybody who seemed worthy of the blame. I was young when this all happened—well, a little older than you, Ms. Jones. I was so staggered by injustice that the conspiracy theories didn't take a hold of my mind until after the Regal Evils story.

"I suppose what I am trying to say," Mitchell continued, "is that all this time we thought we were looking for a murderer…"

Heero suddenly felt his blood go cold at Mitchell's inferred assertion. "And you believe that now we are not?"

Mitchell stared at him levelly. "It would explain a lot of things, Mr. Yuy. After all, haven't you found it odd that no killer has been found after ten years? No assassin is too sophisticated to evade discovery—unless they had some help. Or if one doesn't truly exist."

"My theory had been that Firestar had received protection from a corrupt but powerful opponent of Relena's," Heero revealed.

"_Had been?"_ Nicole frowned at the word choice. She narrowed her eyes at him. "What is it you're not telling? What's changed, Heero?"

Heero remembered what Danie had told him the last time they had seen each other. He had not told anyone the particulars of his altercation with his wife, not even his twin sister, who had threatened to flog them both. He had figured it was safer to deal with the situation on his own.

Even now, after a month, he felt the same. He continued to search for answers to the rampant questions in his head, and letting anyone else into the mystery when he didn't know what was going on in the first place seemed unwise. He supposed he was counting on Danie to explain it.

Therefore, to Nicole's question he shook his head. "Nothing has changed; I just decided to widen my perspective." He turned to Mitchell. "I am willing to hear your theory out."

"It's pretty self-explanatory," Mitchell responded. "I came up with the assumption that Relena Peacecraft's death had to be a smoke screen for something else from the evidence I gathered. Along those lines, I wonder if Nadia Randall's death was also staged."

Nicole's eyes went huge. "You think…?" She sat back, looking utterly stunned. "Damn. If that's the case, then there might be more going on than we thought."

"I believe that particular aspect has been confirmed," Mitchell pointed out grimly. "Which is why I must adjourn this meeting, for all our sakes."

Mitchell unearthed his wallet to pay his tab as Heero and Nicole sat in silent shock. As thoughts raced through his active mind, his eyes fell upon a picture—upside down but still discernable. It looked to be the school portrait of a girl with dark hair. A slight smile curved her lips but the mirth didn't meet her eyes. The color of them was familiar. Almost too familiar.

Realization came like a jolt from live wire_. It couldn't be..._

"You have children, Mr. Davenport?" Heero found himself asking.

Mitchell gazed at him, guardedness coming into his eyes. He lowered his stare to the school portrait that was revealed as he opened his wallet. After a tense moment, Mitchell simply replied, "There is a child out there that means a great deal to me, Mr. Yuy. I would like to leave her out of this."

With that, Mitchell threw down money for his tab and left.

In the time that it took Mitchell to walk out of the pub, Heero made a decision. Pulling out his phone, he did a quick search that took a few moments. Then he sent the pertinent information to Nicole.

"Follow him," he ordered Nicole.

Nicole was understandably flabbergasted. "What?" she looked down at her phone as it beeped with an incoming message. "What the hell—?"

Heero shook his head. "I can't explain it to you. It would take too much time." He looked at her, eyes filled with urgency she couldn't comprehend. "Just take the directions to that address. Please."

Nicole stared at him for a beat before obeying. She swung out of the booth and out of the pub with Ryan Tedder crooning in the background about secrets, earning surreptitious stares from every male in attendance.

As she exited, the flash drive she had put in her pocket tumbled out next to Heero.

{-}

As sunset came and darkness ascended from the ground, Mitchell took no time in getting away from Heero Yuy and the mysterious Cleopatra Jones. Despite his desire for truth and clarity, he was hardly going to have himself and two others killed in the quest for it.

The mystery of Relena Peacecraft's death had haunted him for ten long years. He had written stories about her before her death and had become fascinated with her as others in his profession had. When she died, he felt that it was his duty as a reporter to find out the truth. Suddenly, he felt like he was getting a few steps closer. What scared him, however, was what loomed at the finish line.

Someone called out his name, and he turned to find a tall, dark-haired man in a coat walking toward him. Jeffrey Milton McDonald, better known as simply Jeff, was a close friend, neighbor, and colleague. The younger man had irritated him a little when they had met for the first time two years ago, but the twenty-seven-year-old had since proved himself a worthy photographer. He walked jauntily despite the late summer cool, and his long brown hair gleamed under the setting sun. Mitchell took one look at him and shook his head in consternation.

"So you've finally come up for air I see," Mitchell remarked. "I suppose Miss Gianna was as entertaining as advertised."

"I can't help it if I was enthralled by the lushness of the female form," Jeff quipped, brown eyes twinkling. "It's an awesome way to spend a birthday."

Mitchell, seeing that his place was close, started to dig out his keys from his pocket. "Considering your birthday was a few days ago."

"Whoever said one day was enough…" Jeff paused then, and Mitchell bumped into him. Mitchell started to chide him for stopping when he placed a hand on his shoulder. "Oh my God… Is that Abigail? I didn't know she was coming to visit…"

Mitchell looked at his front steps in astonishment. The hooded, dark-haired girl who leapt up from the stairs looked bedraggled. She still wore her school uniform, but her socks were filthy. Fear and exhaustion emanated from her and clenched Mitchell's stomach. When it sank in that she was alone, he strode purposefully to her and took her by her shoulders, careful not to hurt her.

"Abby," Mitchell managed. "What...how did you get here?"

The tender words let loose a torrent of tears in her large violet eyes. "Uncle Jack…I had to run away… I had to get away…"

Mitchell frowned at her choice of words. _I had to run away… I had to get away…_ "Get away from what? What is going on, Abigail? Where is Victoria?"

The grief in Abigail's eyes was staggering. "Uncle Jack… She…she is going to die soon…it's not getting better…"

Mitchell held her close, trying to keep the tide of grief from washing over him as well. Victoria was a dear friend to him. Once upon a time, there could have been more between them, but Harlan Taylor had come into the picture and had stolen Victoria away from him. In the subsequent years, a deep affection had formed, strengthened by the presence of Abigail. He didn't have a loving wife and child; Abigail and Victoria were the closest thing he had to a family.

To think that he would lose Victoria, a woman he loved greatly, made a wound that scored deep. The pain mingled with the horror of the predicament in front of him. Abigail was a practical child, almost unerringly so; she wouldn't have run away from home, away from her ailing mother, for something trivial. _What the hell is Harlan Taylor doing?_

Mitchell opened his mouth to speak but there was a sound from nearby. Jeff went on alert and Mitchell stood protectively in front of Abigail as a petite black woman stepped out of the shadows. She wore a long military-style coat in a teal hue that flapped in the wind and opened at the waist to reveal a pair of dark jeans and knee-high brown boots. A couple of seconds slipped by before he recognized her.

"Cleopatra Jones?" he asked incredulously.

"Cleopatra Jones?" Jeff repeated as if to say, _What the hell?_

She fumed at the name, inwardly cursing herself for picking it. "All right dammit that's not my real name. My real name is Nicole Smith."

"Then why did you lie to me?" Mitchell demanded.

"And with such an outrageous moniker at that," muttered Jeff.

Nicole leveled a glare upon Jeff. "What is wrong with Cleopatra Jones? You got a problem with my codename?" Jeff responded but Nicole spoke over him, her ire up. "I don't care 'cause nobody asked you anyway." She turned to an impatient Mitchell. "To be honest, I wasn't sure you would help me if you knew I worked for Quatre Winner. I knew you would look me up."

"Fine. So why are you here?" He made an expansive gesture to indicate the current scene.

"I was given an order, and trust me when I say I almost told Heero Yuy he could kiss my ass but now…" She regarded Abigail with a depth and gentleness neither man thought she could possess. She took a step forward, slowly so that she didn't upset her precarious position. She knew Mitchell didn't trust her yet and he probably resented her for following him to his house. "Now it makes a little sense."

"I hardly care what that wanker told you to do," Mitchell snapped. "He doesn't strike me as a man with a lot of sense. So I don't care what sort of justification you have for violating my privacy." He turned to Abigail to speak to her but Nicole directed one statement to him.

"He did it because of her mama."

Mitchell clenched his jaw and whirled around. "You will not speak ill of Victoria Taylor in my presence—" Abigail laying a gentle hand on his sleeve cut him off. She stared serenely at Nicole as if looking through her.

"Uncle Jack," she began, "she doesn't mean Victoria."

"Then who in the bloody hell does she mean?" Jeff wanted to know as realization had Mitchell going slack. "That's the only mother you have."

"We'd better talk about this inside," Abigail suggested urgently and tried to push Mitchell toward the door.

Jeff began to ask why, but the sound of gunfire gave him his answer.

{-}

Back at the hotel room Heero shared with Nicole, Heero hooked the flash drive to his laptop.

He had been in a state of disconcerting focus since he had sent Nicole away. As he walked back to their hotel room, there had been little else on his mind. The flash drive, as small and slight as it was, had seemed as heavy as a stone in his coat pocket.

Without speaking to anyone, Heero had traveled up to his room and powered up his computer. Now he sat, waiting for the drive's contents to be revealed to him.

The flash drive contained a dozen PDF documents and five JPEG files. He opened each document and read through them carefully. He found himself impressed by Mitchell's research abilities while disquiet filled him with every new fact he discovered.

The child only known by the banal moniker Baby Jane had been an occupant of Theodore Baxley's house for several months before her kidnapping in August AC 198. Baxley had brought her into his home, and he had been in the process of having adoption papers brought up so that he could assume legal control of the child. Unfortunately for him, the law worked against him because he was single; in a correspondence with the now-deceased Bruce Richards, Richards had advised Baxley to marry—and quickly. Heero's stomach had turned when Baxley had indicated he had a solution_. The little princess will be all but eating out of the palm of my hand when I'm done with her._

He had to clamp down on the urge to hunt Theodore Baxley down and kill him with his bare hands.

Meanwhile, Nadia Randall had been corresponding secretly as well…with Millardo Peacecraft. She had expressed her concern about Relena's relationship with Theodore. Millardo echoed her sentiments and offered a solution, though the solution was never revealed. Mitchell was unable to uncover any more correspondences between Millardo and Nadia; Nadia "died" shortly thereafter. Heero started to wonder if Millardo was actually dead as well.

One of the documents outlined activities in Nadia's known accounts, which were legion, and Heero saw the transfer Nicole's report had outlined. Mitchell had been nothing but thorough; he had even tried to track the money through Millie Darling's account and its origin, an account under the ownership of Death Bell Incorporated. Heero noticed more transfers—probably what Mitchell had been talking about when he had said that the rest was on this disk—and one that had happened a mere month ago.

Nadia did not have any children, and upon her death, her visible accounts and assets were controlled by lawyers and accountants. But the Randi Albert account had been strictly under Nadia's control; no other person had access to it. So that meant…

"Nadia is not dead," Heero said to himself. "And maybe…" He couldn't say the rest out loud. He felt that if he finished that sentence, he would jinx the possibility. However, as Nicole said, if such a possibility was true, then the question became what had caused these events.

Heero had a feeling that the child had something to do with it.

Thinking of the child, Heero went back to the flash drive and opened up the five JPEG files.

In the first picture, Millardo, along with Lucretzia Noin, occupied a table with Nadia Randall and Relena at an opulent dinner function. Judging from their body language, Millardo and Nadia were having a heated, friendly debate. Relena was laughing, and Noin looked slightly mollified at the man she loved._ Hmm. Establishing that Millardo and Nadia were acquainted. Noted._

In the next picture, Relena and Theodore were at a restaurant. Heero frowned at the image of a frustrated Relena. The date given for the picture indicated this was after he and Relena had seen each other in Sydney, Australia. _Establishing Relena was less-than happy about their relationship and it was becoming noticeable. Noted._

The next two photos were grainy, but Heero could recognize Millardo's white-blonde mane anywhere. He and Relena, along with who Heero assumed was Nadia, were walking into an abandoned building in a seedy, urban locale. The photos had been taken from above and at an angle, so Heero could see the back and a bit of the profile of the person who entered the building before the trio. The person had long black hair and Heero's memory touched on the lone black hair in Spanish Gracia. Not a coincidence in his opinion.

In the fourth picture, the mysterious man had his hand on Relena's shoulder, guiding her inside._ Establishing that Relena, Millardo, and Nadia had been meeting covertly with an unknown man. Noted._

In the last picture, taken by a former employee of the Baxley household, Nadia and Relena sat posed together. They both wore semi-casual winter clothing. Judging from the decorations posted up around them, it was sometime around Christmas. Both sported large, happy smiles and grasped mugs of steaming liquid in their hands. The only difference was that Relena had a child in her lap.

"Baby Jane," Heero murmured. Perhaps Mitchell had come to the same conclusion as well, which was why he had included this picture for evidence. The reports that surrounded Relena's death had not connected the incident with Baby Jane's kidnapping. The fact that Relena knew Baby Jane was not public knowledge. In fact, Baby Jane's mere _existence_ was not public knowledge. If it hadn't been for that cryptic email and the research of Mitchell Davenport, Heero would have known nothing about her.

Heero magnified the image in a facial recognition program—another of Wild Wing creation—and selected the child's cherubic face. He sat for a long moment, transfixed by the familiarity of her smile, her lips, her eyes. A pang went through his heart. He wasn't sure if it was due to her innocence—or because she looked very much like someone he knew…

_Where are you going?_

_To find out who's keeping my babies…_

Determinedly, Heero typed a command that had the program measuring the particular dimensions of the child's facial structure and searching for a match. He limited the search to ten- and eleven-year-old females, but it would still take a while.

Heero looked down at his phone, dimly wondering why Nicole hadn't called him yet.

{-}

There was hardly any time to think, just react.

Abigail sucked in a breath as if about to scream at the sight of blood staining Mitchell's jacket. That first bullet had lodged in his shoulder. Not feeling or thinking of the pain, Mitchell went down over Abigail and Jeff ducked. However, Nicole expertly drew a gun and fired off two shots in retaliation before ducking as well.

"Bloody hell!" Jeff exclaimed. He gaped as Nicole landed near him.

"We'd better get going," Nicole said tersely. "If I'm gonna be a target I'd better be a moving one."

"Who died and made you the bleeding leader?" Jeff griped.

"You volunteering?" Nicole shot back.

The squeal of tires split the air and Nicole leapt up in the direction of the runaway car. Running after it, she squeezed off two shots. The first hit the bumper. The second punctured a rear tire. She watched as the car barely got away. She cursed loudly while Jeff went to his friend's aid.

"I think they're gone now," Abigail murmured as Nicole came stomping back, face stormy.

Everyone watched in fascination as she put her gun away and took out her cell phone. She looked at it then growled in frustration.

"Much good that's gonna do with no service," she muttered bitterly as she stuck back in a pocket. She went to Mitchell then, taking off the scarf around her neck as she walked. She motioned Jeff back so she could tie it to his shoulder.

Mitchell raised his eyebrows. "You've got a gun. Why?"

Nicole tightened the scarf around the wound and Mitchell hissed with pain. "When you go anywhere with Heero Yuy, you better be packing some heat. Believe me, you learn fast." She took in her surroundings, eying the front of Mitchell's flat in the evening darkness. "Whoever that was was shooting to kill. Those weren't warning shots. If I hadn't been here, well..." she trailed off and shook her head. "We ain't gonna think about that. We'd better get you to a hospital."

When Abigail looked uneasy, Mitchell pursed his lips together. "Perhaps there is an alternative."

After a long, incredulous stare, Nicole punched his uninjured shoulder in frustration and he growled in pain. "Are you out your mind? You are bleeding from a _bullet wound_. You've got a piece of hot metal in you, dammit. It's gotta come out."

"If you're worried about someone discovering Abigail is with you, I can watch her," Jeff offered.

Mitchell had to battle back some pain before he spoke. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, he was starting to feel the throbbing in both shoulders. "I would appreciate it, mate," he said tightly. Nicole started shaking her head vigorously. He gritted his teeth together. "What the hell is it now?"

"Here's the plan," Nicole began briskly. "You"—she pointed to Jeff—"are taking Mr. Davenport to the emergency room. I will take Abigail to my hotel room so she can clean up and wait on you." When Jeff started to protest, she insisted, "I got the weapon. Do we really have to argue this?"

"Just because you're armed doesn't mean you can act like a bleeding bully," Jeff snapped.

"And just because you've got a dick doesn't mean you can act like a bumbling idiot," Nicole shot back.

As they argued, Mitchell tiredly turned to Abigail. She had been silent throughout the whole exchange, just quietly tending to him as much as she could. When he peered into her face, he had the answer to his unspoken question. He didn't like it.

He inhaled and turned to Nicole. "Where are you staying?" he asked grudgingly.

{-}

At nearly ten o'clock, Heero's formerly closed lids cracked open.

He knew, even without a coherent thought, someone was in the suite with him. He awoke from his light doze without moving, instead taking in his environment carefully. His laptop still hummed as it looked for a child in the known universe who looked like Abigail Taylor. The person was in the living room area but moving slowly. He probably had thirty seconds before they got to the bedroom.

Outside the door, the person ran into a chair and cursed. Heero threw open the door and aimed the gun at the moving shadow.

The shadow yelped. "Dammit Heero—!"

Heero went to nearest lamp and turned it on. The room was bathed in a golden glow, and Nicole's seething face came into view. He lowered the gun.

"I expected you back…" The scold died on his lips when her form registered completely. She was slightly hunched over, and a pair of limp arms and legs dangled in front of her. A dark head rested on her shoulder, face hidden from his vantage point. He gazed at Nicole wordlessly as he tried to navigate through his shock.

"Well this is what you get for asking me to follow Mitchell Davenport," Nicole grunted. She shifted her weight when her cargo began to slip. Heero stepped forward to take the load off her back. Unburdened, Nicole straightened and inhaled deeply. "Somehow Mitchell landed in the ER again. He took a bullet for the little one."

Robotically Heero took the girl into the bedroom as Nicole followed and filled him in on what had happened. He barely heard Nicole speaking. By now, he was in another world that included only him...and this mysterious young girl that Nicole had brought to him.

He gently rested her on the bed, and her head lolled to the side, causing her hair to cover her face. He took in her slim body, noting the skinned knees and the dirty clothes she wore. She was in a school uniform, which gave him cause to believe she had been plucked straight from school. Or had escaped.

He sensed Nicole standing beside him as he leaned over and turned the girl's head. When the curtain of dark hair fell back and her face came into view, he recoiled as if zapped by electricity.

"You saw it too, didn't you?"

Heero did not answer. Instead, he asked her a question of his own. "What is her name?"

Nicole frowned as the girl fidgeted in her sleep. Then she schooled her face to more serene lines. "We were never formally introduced. The name Mitchell used was Abigail."

* * *

**Author's Note: **Abigail calls Mitchell _Uncle Jack _because his middle name is _Jacques_ and it's more affectionate than calling him _Uncle Mitchell _or_ Uncle Mitch_. In addition, my inspiration for Mitchell Davenport, ironically, is the dashing and talented English actor Jack Davenport.


	10. Hurtling Toward the Center

**Author's Notes: _Happy Holidays, everyone!_**_ In this chapter Danie and "Anne" return, both in various stages of camouflage. Perhaps that will make more sense as you read the chapter. But it will become more apparent who "Anne" is if it isn't already. Why not just make it easier and use the name? Well, I can't help liking the slight murkiness at the moment. But don't worry. I've got something pretty frosty set up for the Big Reveal. _

_I put Danie in Okinawa because I couldn't help another Kill Bill allusion. "The Man from Okinawa," anyone? I was originally going to have a Yuki Amami-inspired character (a la BOSS) hiding in Danie's room, but I figure this way is simpler. And leaves more draw for the next chapter._

_Speaking of which, in the next chapter, everyone goes to the Land of Peace: the newly restored Sanc Kingdom. _

_Well, hopefully. I shouldn't draw this out any further, right? ;)_

_I hope you enjoy! Please read and review :)_

* * *

**IX**

_So __this __is __Abigail __Taylor, _Heero thought, regarding the sleeping child.

The thing that had Heero speechless was not the fact that he had been wondering about the girl ever since her name had come up a month ago but instead the familiarity of her features. The very thing that Nicole had noticed as well.

"Why is she here?" Heero asked.

Nicole shook her head. "She didn't tell me that much before she passed out," she responded. "My gut tells me that she is running away from something."

You probably didn't need a rocket scientist to tell you that one, but he didn't say so. "Indeed," Heero murmured.

Before Nicole could say a word, there was a brisk knock on the door.

Heero gazed at her in suspicion. "Who the hell is that?" he demanded.

Instead of cowering, Nicole rolled her eyes at him. "I just told you, stupid. You weren't listening were you?" She shook her head in consternation and went to answer the knock at the door. Heero stared down at the sleeping Abigail as voices drifted toward him. He was not shocked to hear Mitchell's voice; he could not recognize the other male voice that sparred with Nicole.

Heero turned to see wariness come into Mitchell's eyes as he entered the room behind Nicole. He supposed Mitchell was uncomfortable with his proximity to Abigail, so he took one step away from her and into the living room area with everyone else.

Nicole spoke first and broke the crushing silence. "I think Miss Mystery needs to be cleaned up." She went to the bed and hefted the unconscious eleven-year-old. Mitchell started to protest, but Nicole gave him a look and waved him away. "And let one of you do it? Nuh uh! It's not like we don't have same parts anyway."

Nicole left the room, and tension settled upon them again. The trio of men eyed each other, and Heero could all but taste the distrust in the air. It had a bitter flavor. _This __is __going __to __get __us __nowhere,_ he realized.

"You had better sit down," Heero advised Mitchell, who still looked like he was in a great deal of pain. He then turned to the other gentleman as Mitchell settled into an armchair. "And who are you?"

"Jeff McDonald," he introduced himself. "I was walking home when…it happened."

Heero's brow furrowed at the sentence, so Mitchell explained what had happened as he and Jeff had been walking to his doorstep. Heero pondered on which uncertainty to tackle first as he heard the water running in the bathroom nearby.

Because there were so many, he began with the obvious: "Where are her parents?"

Mitchell rolled his uninjured shoulder, wincing, and sighed. "Her parents didn't come along with her so they're probably still in New York if they haven't noticed she's gone. She made this trip alone. In fact, all evidence indicates that she ran away from home." He paused thoughtfully before resuming. "Her mother is dying of bone cancer, and it has affected her profoundly. She told me that she believes her mother is not getting any better, and I believe that prompted her running away from home."

"Do you know she is a clairvoyant?"

All the blood drained from Mitchell's face leaving him as pale as wax. Jeff stared at Heero with blank shock. "Excuse me?" Mitchell managed.

Heero couldn't tell if Mitchell was shocked because he himself didn't know or because Heero knew. He continued, "Abigail Taylor has a gift, Mitchell. She can see things we cannot. If she says her mother is dying, it's not the pessimism of a sheltered young girl; in all likelihood, it's true."

When Mitchell remained silent, Jeff looked at him, incredulous. "Are you telling me that little girl in there is psychic?" When Mitchell gave him a meaningful look, he looked away with astonishment. He shifted his gaze to Heero.

"How do you know so much about Abigail?" Mitchell wanted to know.

"Someone wanted me to know about her," Heero admitted, thinking of the cryptic email from a month ago. "Until then, I had no knowledge of her. Contrary to your belief, I didn't seek her out. Someone believed I had a connection to her and planted her in my sight, so I had to find the reason why. _That_ is why I know so much about her. And yet…" Heero shook his head. "I know so little…"

Disbelief furrowed Mitchell's brow as he tried to work through the statement. "Whoa, wait a bloody minute here. Why would anyone think you had a connection to Abigail Taylor?"

Heero held Mitchell's olive gaze for a long moment. "Because I think I'm married to her mother," he replied simply.

* * *

In a seedy apartment near Okinawa, Japan, the woman the neighbors knew as Michele Morgan wiped at the foggy mirror in her bathroom and stared at her reflection.

Steam billowed around her, obscuring the rest of the room and thickening the air until it was hard to breathe. She barely noticed the breathlessness. She luxuriated in the sensation of being clean, relieved to be rid of her blood-soiled clothing, which were now slated to be burned to rid the Earth of evidence of her crime.

Because her real name was Daniella Thomas, and she was growing weary of shedding and wearing blood.

Number Three on her death list had been dispatched, but the information he had given her left her with a great deal of disquietude. But then again, her entire life these days was one great mass of disquietude, so she was grimly resigned to it.

She had been traveling incognito since she had left her husband in late July. All of her aliases had come in handy as she skimmed by on the dark side. She realized as she ended Nicholas Groaden's life three weeks ago that she was no longer working for to avenge her lost innocence. Now every step she took assured the protection of the two lives she had brought into the world.

_And Heero..._

She sighed and closed her eyes. That last image of Heero going unconscious stuck in her mind's eye. The pain she caused him she felt in her own body and she wished things could be different right now, could have been different from the start.

_Too __late __for __wishing __now, __baka_, Danie chided herself. _Now __you__'__ve __gotta __work __for __what __you __want._

Tired of being idle, Danie turned away from the mirror and exited the bathroom.

* * *

Meanwhile, at a house in southwestern London, another woman also filled with disquietude stood in front of a mirror.

Her anxiety was of a different sort. She was about to take a foray onto what others had called hallowed ground, a place she had at one time called her home. After many years and several tragedies, she wondered what dangers her former home possessed. She feared them. Those phantom perils lurked in her mind like ghosts. She feared not for herself, but for the girl standing beside her whom she had sheltered for ten years. The reason of it all.

"We don't have to do this, Mum," said the girl beside her as her mirror image accompanied hers. "We can stay home."

"I wish you would've said that a month ago." When the girl looked guilty, she sighed and shook her head. Her French braid swayed down her back. "No, no, I don't mean that."

The girl hopped up onto the counter near the sink, the back of her head reflected in the mirror. "Maybe on some level you do, like subcontinental or something."

She couldn't help chuckling at her daughter's malapropism. "You mean _subconscious_, dear." Her mirth soon subsided, and she idly toyed with a lock of her own hair.

Her daughter waved off the mistake. "Pretty much the same thing." She stared at her mother meaningfully, violet eyes filled with concern. "But I meant what I said, Mum. We can stay home if you want to. I won't be mad."

The woman stared at her mirror image with her own grim determination. Logic told her that the monsters she feared were of her own making, and she was acting like a scared child. She needed to open the proverbial closet door and face reality.

But this whole situation defied logic.

Ironically, Logic would also say that she was supposed to be dead. But she wasn't.

_So much for logic._

With that sentiment, she turned to the dark-haired girl and held out her hand. "We already bought the train tickets," she reminded her daughter. With a slight frown, the girl gave her the box she had been holding. Her mother opened the box of hair color and quietly started to mix the chemicals that would temporarily color her hair the same shade as her daughter's.

* * *

Mitchell went still again. Meanwhile, Jeff choked out a chuckle. "I hope you're not saying that you and Victoria Petrie met on some ill-begotten night in Vegas and secretly tied the knot."

"Victoria Petrie is not Abigail's biological mother," Heero corrected him. It was Jeff's turn to go pensive. "I'm sure in all intents and purposes, Ms. Petrie is Abigail's mother, but there is no biological tie between them."

Mitchell, recovering from his shock, nodded. "Harlan is sterile. They tried having a child but failed." A shadow of something unreadable darkened his eyes and he lowered them to the floor. "Victoria even asked me to help her conceive a child, but I told her I wouldn't do that to Harlan."

Jeff rolled his eyes. He knew all about Harlan Taylor from the realm of public opinion, and the public was hardly merciful. "Who cares about that wanker? I say you should have done it—and rubbed it into his face every chance you got."

Mitchell gave him an irritated glare. "Have some respect for the sanctity of marriage, McDonald." He then looked to Heero again. "Are you saying that you know Abigail's biological mother?"

Wordlessly, Heero removed his wallet from his back pocket. Mitchell watched as he extracted a picture and held it up. Both Mitchell and Jeff leaned in to observe the picture. Once the mental comparisons had been made, sounds of awe came from both of them.

"Yes, I can now see the resemblance," Mitchell admitted.

"She is quite the stunner," Jeff remarked. Then he added when something flickered in Heero's eyes, "You are a very lucky man."

Heero replaced the picture without agreeing, and Mitchell noted the discontent on his face. He waited a beat before he commented, "I am guessing Mrs. Yuy didn't make the trip here with you."

"No," Heero responded. "She disappeared a month ago. She didn't reveal where she was going or why." _To __find __out __who__'__s __keeping __my __babies__…_

Mitchell still looked utterly flabbergasted. Jeff peppered Heero with questions. "Well, what does she do? Does she know where Abigail is? Could she have been the one shooting at us?"

Heero opened his mouth to address the first two questions, but the third packed an unexpected wallop. It was a possibility he had never thought of. Could she be here, right now?

As he pondered this, the bathroom door suddenly opened, and the patter of quickly approaching footsteps met their ears. The men sat up, alert, as Nicole's voice came floating out to them. The tone was slightly chiding.

It didn't take long for Abigail to appear.

* * *

Now clad in a robe, Danie sat on her bed with a file folder and a small, hand-held computer.

Nicholas Groaden had not been good for much more than his money and influences, and in the end—of his life, to be clear—he had given Danie one great piece of the puzzle that had presented itself one month ago.

She had learned quickly the whereabouts of Abigail Taylor, the second child that had been borne from her that painful night in March eleven years ago. Her twin, however, had been more elusive.

According to Nicholas, Chance Copeland had sold both babies for an obscene amount of money to two wealthy couples. In the back of her mind, Danie had thought it distressing that the adoptive parents did not question the origin of the twins.

That is, until it occurred to her that they all—Copeland, the parents, the whole lot of them—were twisted as fuck. She knew Harlan Taylor was, the sonofabitch. She didn't consider the other pair of parents, the ones about whom Nicholas told her, any better. They had to be somewhat worse in a way, she reasoned, for cloaking themselves so expertly.

Danie knew a lot about covering up secrets. Didn't mean she had to like it.

In the file folder, she sifted through evidence of money transfers and other momentarily useless documentation. She already knew enough about what had happened. Now she just needed to know who.

"Anne Katherine Meredith," Danie murmured aloud. She pulled up the profile on Anne Meredith and studied it.

_**Full ****Name:** Anne Katherine Meredith Drake  
__**Date ****of ****Birth:** 8 May 73  
__**Place ****of ****Birth:** Chelsea, England  
__**Place ****of ****Residence:** Kensington, England  
__**Hair:** Blonde  
__**Eyes:** Blue  
__**Height:** 5'7"  
__**Parents:** Helen and George Meredith  
__**Siblings:** None  
__**Spouse:** Eric Cornwell Drake (b. 72, d. 99) (m. 91-99)  
__**Child(ren):** Shannon Marieanne (b. 97)_

She stared at the black and white for a long time, trying to form an image of Anne Meredith in her mind. She found that she could not do it objectively and violently shoved the paper away. Restless again, she then pushed off of the bed and started to pace with the computer in her hand.

_That __woman __has __my __child,_ Danie thought.

She stopped in mid-step, looking at the screen. _There __is __no __way __I __can __let __that __lie._

With her thumbs, she brought up one of Arashi Corp's databases that she had hacked into earlier that evening and typed in _Anne __Meredith_. The search brought up nothing. Considering it, she decided to take a different path—and plugged in the name _Katherine __Drake_.

After a couple of dead ends, she found her—and an address in South Kensington. Blood hot and racing, she dug a little deeper and found a bank account. After looking at the most recent transactions, something blossomed in her mind. A place that had her heart speeding up.

_The Sanc Kingdom…_

* * *

"Mum?"

She looked up at the sound of her daughter speaking to her. She had a towel wrapped around her damp hair, turban-style, and was wiping away the mess washing away the hair dye had left. "Yes?"

Her daughter leaned on the door frame, clad in jean shorts and a blue tank. She could tell by the way the girl's brow was furrowed that something weighed on her young mind. "Do you miss it?"

The woman frowned. "Miss what, dear?"

"Your old life. Back when you traveled the world and spoke to great people about great things and stuff. That had to be very exciting."

She faintly smiled at her daughter's glittering eyes and youthful perception. "There are some aspects of my life that I miss." A fleeting image of a dark-haired man with blue eyes flashed through her mind and she couldn't help the pang in her heart, even after all of these years. She turned to her daughter then, and placed a hand on her shoulder. "If I had to go back and do it all again, I would do it all the same." _Well,_ she contended silently, thinking of the dark-haired man, _perhaps __maybe __there __are __a __couple __of __things __I __would __change._

She tugged the towel from her head, and dark locks tumble freely onto her shoulders. The contrast from her former hair was stark, staggering. She stared at herself, amazed at the change.

She was not Anne Katherine Meredith anymore.

But she didn't know if she was anyone else either.

* * *

She wore the hotel-issue fluffy bathrobe that engulfed her small frame. Her dark hair was still damp, and the bath had erased all vestiges of dirt from her face, leaving it pale and colorless. Her eyes were slightly wide as if she were startled. Nicole appeared moments after, expression grim.

"Abby?" Mitchell ventured.

Her eyes flickered toward him for a moment, but rested upon Heero. Mitchell's eyebrows furrowed in bemusement. Heero regarded her expressionlessly while conflicting emotions raged inside of him. There was something in her gaze that faintly reminded him of Danie; however, after a moment, he found that she bore a better resemblance to her quieter, more subdued aunt. After a second, she blinked and schooled her face to mimic his. It was Heero's turn to be mildly shocked.

Without warning, Abigail drifted across the room, robe trailing out behind her. Nicole, Jeff, and Mitchell held their breaths as she stopped in front of Heero, who managed not to move a muscle. At this close proximity, he could see the exact color and shape of her eyes, which did not remind him of her aunt but of someone he didn't want to think about. The pang that caused was undeniable.

Her head tilted slightly, and her lips parted as if she were going to say something. She learned forward and extended a hand.

Bafflement filled Heero's face when her fingertips rested on his forehead…

…And she jumped back, cradling her hand to her body as if burned.

Mitchell jumped up, ready to console Abigail but forgetting his injuries, and hissed loudly in pain. Jeff went to his aid. Nicole sighed and scolded him while she strode across the room to Abigail.

Still, Abigail had not spoken. Neither had Heero.

"Abigail," Nicole began gently, "what happened, girl?"

Abigail didn't answer Nicole, frowning instead. Lips pressed together in determination as if spurned onto some perilous task, she reached out for Heero again, pressing her fingertips to his forehead.

A heartbeat later, she made her first statement since entering Heero's presence: "You're looking for her, too."

* * *

She was ready.

The bags were packed, the house was clean and set for their return, and as far she was concerned, everything was ready.

Her daughter flitted around, turning things off and making sure windows were locked. She took those solitary moments to think about how much she had experienced in the last ten years. Would she take it back? So many lives had been changed; she was not oblivious enough to deny the ripples her demise had caused, how it had reverberated through the world. The landscape of everything she had known had been transformed in the aftermath.

But the peace, however counterfeit it was, calmed all of the misgivings. Isn't that for what she had been fighting all of her life? Peace?

She inhaled, looking around at her entryway, where the pink roses blushed against the ecru-colored wall. She took in the _London __Times_ sitting folded on the table by the phone, the random purple barrette that her daughter had deposited. Almost like she might not see it again.

_No,_ she thought_, __I_ will _be __here __again. __This __is _my _life. __I __will __fight __for __it._

"Mum? Everything's locked."

With focused eyes, she looked at her daughter and nodded, hefting her purse onto her shoulder. As the dark-haired pre-teen picked up the bags on the porch, she felt something inside of her purse vibrate. Frowning, she dug out her phone to find she had a new text message from an unlisted number.

After encrypting the text, she got one word: _Ganbatte._

She smiled faintly, feeling a light, protective aura around her. That was a signal of goodwill if ever she saw one.

Assured, she secured the house and left.

* * *

_You__'__re __looking __for __her, __too_. Feeling slightly violated and greatly unsettled, Heero reached up and lowered Abigail's hand. He found that it was cold in his grasp, fought the urge to hold it until it was warm. _Why __do __I __feel __like __this __about __a __child __I __just __met?_

_And __more __importantly, __how __does __she __know__…__?_ "What do you know about…my wife?" Heero inquired, finding it hard to say the phrase _my __wife_ without hesitation. Before she answered, Heero clarified, "About where she is."

Nicole raised an eyebrow. "There is no way in hell…" She trailed off, thinking about how Abigail sensed the danger before the shots had rung out in front of Mitchell's flat. Then she threw her hands up in the air. "Aw hell. You know where she is, don't you?"

Abigail looked a little sheepish. "I cannot help what I know or what I don't know."

"It's not like it has a dimmer switch," Jeff remarked archly to Nicole.

Nicole threw him an irritated look. "Look—nobody asked you—so how about you just sit over there and shut the hell up?"

Mitchell raised a hand—and his voice. "Shut the fuck up—both of you." They went stonily silent. He laid a gentle gaze upon Abigail. "Abby—who do you mean and where is she right now?"

Abigail hesitated a moment, looking uneasily at him, then at Heero. Before anyone could encourage her, she steeled herself and replied, "The lady that Harlan wants to kill. She is heading to the Sanc Kingdom."

Heero went cold at the mention of the Sanc Kingdom—the very place he was going to visit in a short while. Thoughts racing, he rose from the couch and brushed past Abigail, who frowned at his retreating back. Nicole stared down at Abigail, bemused. "The lady that _who _wants to kill? And what lady? I mean, do we know her?" She threw her hands up in the air in frustration. "Could someone please explain what the hell is going on here?"

"Her adoptive father is the man she means," Mitchell responded, eyebrows furrowed thoughtfully. He blinked at Heero, who was emerging from the bedroom with his duffel in hand. "But the lady in question…"

Jeff went pale when it came to him. "It's…your wife."

Nicole's eyes went huge. She gaped at Jeff, then at Abigail, and finally whirled on Heero to gape at him. "What the hell…? You mean to tell me _Danie_ is heading to Sanc? Right now?" She rubbed her temples and murmured to herself. "What in the hell is going on y'all…this shit ain't cute…" She sobered quickly as it dawned on her what Heero was doing. Her hands dropped to her sides and she threw them into the air in consternation again. "No. Aw no…aw hell no…Hiroshi Yuy…" she began.

Heero stuffed some pants in the duffel and glared at her. "Don't you dare try to stop me," he warned, voice low.

Nicole put her hands on her hips and placed herself in his path as he moved around, packing his things. "And what the hell do you think you're gonna accomplish by dashing off to Sanc _now_? What—you're gonna stride up to her all locked and loaded and be all _'__Omae __o __korosu__'__?_'Cause I know you're packing heat and you ain't gonna part with that even if you have to swallow it." Everyone watched in stupefaction as Heero sidestepped her and unplugged his laptop. She whirled and fumed at him. "You'd better cease and desist, Yuy. I _am __not_ playing with you." Of course, in her anger, _with __you_ came out more like _witchu_.

Heero zipped his laptop inside its case. "I am not scared of you, Nicole."

"Yeah?" She pulled out her cell, which was working perfectly now. "I know of one person you _are _scared of."

* * *

She was ready, too.

The room had been set to rights—that is, she had cleaned thoroughly to free it any traces of her existence. Danie was not going to return to this place anytime soon—or hopefully never again. She hoped that after this mission, she would never have to live this way, in the squalor of anonymity.

She was deviating from the list, but she had her target now. This one was the most important of them all.


	11. Phantasm

_**Author's Note:** I have been stewing over various parts of this chapter and the next for over a year. But I am happy to say that the wait is over for this part of the mystery. However, there is more to come, don't worry. ;-)_

_Please read and review! I am curious to know what everyone thinks._

* * *

**X**

The voice came through the speakerphone with enough force that even Nicole winced. _"Hiroshi Yuy?!"_

Heero death-glared Nicole, who stared at him defiantly. He then turned to the phone and said, "Crys, you do not need to be worried about this. Quatre would have a heart attack if he knew that you were this worked up."

"Me being worked up is not Quatre's fault—it's _yours_," Crystilline Winner shot back. "You're being reckless again, darting into trouble. You don't need to be going to the Sanc Kingdom. It's only going to lead to a bad predicament. If you try to harm Danie, they will likely press charges. And you'll _really_ see me worked up if I have to bail you out of a Sanc prison."

"My wife may be there, Crys," Heero snapped. "Even if we don't leave husband and wife I at least deserve an explanation."

"Explanation, my _ass!_ It's not worth it, Heero! Will you_ listen_ to me for once instead of letting your foolish male pride get in the way?!"

Meanwhile as Heero argued with his twin, Abigail looked worriedly to Mitchell. "Uncle Jack," Abigail began, "I don't want to intrude…"

Mitchell raised an eyebrow at Heero's flushed face. "Sweetie, I don't want you within a foot of that, trust me." He scrutinized her face. "I have a feeling that you have a really compelling reason despite yourself."

Abigail fidgeted. "He needs to go. If he doesn't, bad things will happen." Jeff opened up his mouth to speak, but Abigail went on. "I don't think I can elaborate without sounding like I need to be committed."

"Too late for that, love," Mitchell murmured. Ignoring Mitchell's remark, Abigail walked toward the other side of the room where Nicole had Crys Winner on speakerphone.

"If you go to Sanc, Hiroshi Yuy, so help me—"

Abigail cleared her throat. "Excuse me?" Heero, open-mouthed and ready to respond to his sister, froze and regarded her with surprise. "May I…speak?" A second passed, but Heero didn't give consent, and Abigail continued anyway. "I think you should go to Sanc, Mr. Yuy."

* * *

Thousands of miles away, Moira-Selene Thomas awoke in her own sweat.

The dregs of the nightmare still haunted her as she rose and staggered to the kitchen. She filled a glass with water almost to the brim. She gulped down water like a woman who needed air. Trembling, she leaned against the sink, closed her eyes.

_Bang. A body falls._ "Danie," she whispered.

As if on cue, Moira-Selene's phone rang. Frowning at the display, she picked it up. After a moment, she was greeted with the sound of her twin's voice.

Her heart skipped. "Danie! Where are you?"

On the other end, Danie sighed. "You know, I thought I would be filled with peace when I got here. But I'm not. I am full of rage. I've always been full of rage, for as long as I can remember." She paused. "I can't tell you where I am, Mo, or what I'm doing. I just have to finish it."

"Finish what?" Moira-Selene demanded frantically. "Tell me! I can help you, Danie, if you let me. Please."

"No one can help me now. I'm starting to think no one ever can." When Danie spoke again, Moira-Selene heard the sorrow in her voice. "I ruined his life, Mo." _Heero,_ Moira-Selene thought. "That's what I do—ruin people's lives. Because they ruined mine." Danie exhaled as if bringing herself together. "I'm sorry for calling you this way, Mo. I'll let you go back to sleep."

"Danie," she whispered, heart aching. "Please don't go. I…might not ever see you again."

Silence sounded in her ear as Danie considered this. But something—a ghost—propelled her past reason. Moira-Selene could feel it even before she spoke. "_Lo siento, hermana. _I have to go."

The dial tone sounded in her ear even before she could utter another word. She stared at the phone, grief filling her every pore. Then, without thinking, she dialed a familiar number.

The person picked up on the second ring. "You better be naked and covered in chocolate. I just went to sleep."

Moira-Selene found the disgust assuaged the torrent of grief. "Duo…I need your help. I need to find Danie."

* * *

The room went silent.

"Heero?" Crys asked. "Who is that? What is going on?"

"Aw hell," Nicole swore. "This is gonna be fun…"

Abigail gingerly stepped forward and addressed Crys. "You don't know me, but my name is Abigail. I…I can't tell you how I know, but things will be all right."

When Crys's voice stuttered out of the speaker, the fierceness had been leached out of it. "But…you're…just a child. How can you tell me nothing is going to happen to my brother?"

"I can see the past, the present and the future. He will not come out this unscathed, but he will be all right. Do not worry." And much to Heero's surprise, she reached over and ended the call. She inhaled, then pressed her lips together.

"Now," Abigail started urgently. "You need to go now, Mr. Yuy."

Heero stared at Abigail, into those eyes she had inherited from the woman he had married. As those eyes began to haunt him again, he picked up his laptop and luggage and strode out. The door settled back in its frame with an absurdly loud sound. Nicole gazed at Abigail, shook her head.

"Well ain't this a fine cluster of fuckery," Nicole muttered.

"So what are we supposed to do now?" Jeff wanted to know.

"Uncle Jack, I can't go home," Abigail said. "And you can't either."

Mitchell sighed. He shifted his gaze to Nicole, figuring it was just better to ask and avoid argument. "Any suggestions?"

Nicole rose to her feet, cell phone in hand. She turned her back to them and flipped through her contacts. She stopped on one, pressed send. She inhaled and held it as the phone on the other end rang.

A deep voice finally came onto the line. "Hello?"

"It's Nicole. Sorry to wake you. But I need you to do me a solid, and it ain't gonna be a trip through the roses."

_Pause._

"What do you need me to do?" asked Trowa Barton.

* * *

Oh a train, Shannon Meredith watched her mother.

They were nearly to Sanc. The landscape was not the only tell; as they neared their destination, her mother grew more and more pensive. She sat with her hands folded in her lap, but Shannon noticed that her fist had begun to clench tighter and tighter.

A frisson of guilt exploded in her stomach. It didn't occur to her how difficult this trip would be for her mother in all of the excitement of making plans. She was young, knew there were things in this world of which she had no knowledge. But her mother…her mother was doing great things when she was not much older than Shannon was.

History had hovered at her mother's fingertips. This woman, with her newly dyed hair and quiet blue eyes was…a legend. Shannon stared at her in wonder.

"Mother?" Her mother looked to her. "Would you like a cookie?"

She softened around the eyes and her lips curved at the ends. "No sweetheart." She tilted her head, peering at the girl for whom she has risked her life. "Come here."

Shannon didn't protest. She took the empty spot and instinctively curled into the slim figure, taking in her warm vanilla scent. It inspired a buried memory: a jostling van in a foreign locale with a white-haired man in bathed in flickering street light—and a dark-haired man shrouded in shadow. "Mama…"

"It's fine, sweetheart," her mother murmured, wanting to soothe. She hadn't called her _Mama_ since she was five.

"Will you tell me…how it happened?" She felt her mother stiffen. She peered up into her face, wondering what she was thinking. But her mother shook her head.

"You are so young, so innocent." She placed a hand under Shannon's chin. "Darling, someday you will know. But for now, please let it rest."

Because she loved her mother, she did.

* * *

When the train stopped at the station in Sanc, the passengers known as Shannon and Anne Meredith gathered their things and assimilated with the other members of the trip. The history teacher rounded everyone up for roll call, and once she was satisfied that everyone was present, they boarded the trolley.

They rode through the main street of the kingdom. The guidebook informed them that the Sanc Kingdom had been assimilated into the Earth Sphere Unified Nation in AC 195. After Relena's death in AC 198, the Sanc Kingdom, decreed historically sacred and never to be altered by Charlotte Larsson, the head of the ESUN at the time, had become her final resting place. The Sanc Kingdom opened itself to the millions of Relena Peacecraft admirers who visited every year on the days of her birth and death. The former home of the Peacecrafts had been fashioned into a museum—their destination.

Shannon could feel her mother's pulse gradually quicken as they neared the former palace of the Sanc Kingdom. Wanting to reassure, Shannon took her mother's hand.

"Mama—?"

"I'm fine," Shannon was assured, and a smile was even forced. "I'll even buy you an _I Heart Relena_ t-shirt. Deal?"

Shannon couldn't stifle a snort. "Very funny, Mama."

At that moment, Shannon's best friend Nancy Spencer grabbed her sleeve excitedly. Jolting herself out of the magnitude that existed between her mother, Shannon turned to Nancy inquisitively. Nancy held out the brochure about the Peacecraft Memorial, pointing at a picture of Relena Peacecraft as Queen of the World when she was fifteen. She chattered inanely about the jewels, the beautiful dress. Shannon barely listened; her gaze was on the picture on the page opposite. The platinum-haired Millardo Peacecraft regarded them arrogantly, clad in full regalia. Shannon suddenly had a flash of memory—she knew what that cascade of white strands would feel like clutched in her fist.

_You better be worth it, kid._

The deep voice inside of her mind startled her.

"Shannon?" Nancy pressed. "Don't you think?"

Shannon was aware that her mother had gone preternaturally still next to her as if she had sensed her reaction. Nancy's mother Corrine spoke instead, covering Shannon's lack of response.

"I certainly think so," Corrine remarked. "I remember watching the coverage of the war on the television, and whenever he came on-screen standing behind Treize Khushrenada, I couldn't help but be riveted. Though I am sure he wasn't in it for the praise of starstruck little girls all over the universe."

"I bet if he were still alive he would still be hot," Nancy gushed, hearts in her eyes.

"He would be mortified if he heard that," Shannon's mother murmured, sweatdropping.

Hearing her, Corrine frowned. "What did you say, Anne?"

Shannon bit her lip, her eyes radiating with anxiety: _oh shit!_ Anne cleared her throat.

"I was just saying that a magnificent warrior such as Zechs Marquise would probably be more concerned with the ethics of war than the palpitations of teenage hearts while blasting away enemy mobile suits." She shrugged and offered a sociable smile. "That's all."

Corrine and Nancy blinked at her as if she had just imparted the meaning the life. It was Shannon's turn to sweatdrop.

"Oh geez," Shannon muttered.

"You know a lot, Mrs. Meredith," Nancy breathed in fascination.

"I…had a brother with similar values," Anne explained with a chuckle. "He and I never saw eye-to-eye when it came to combat. I believed that fighting with weapons was not necessary. We disagreed, but we respected one another." She sighed then, eyes fraught with both grief and annoyance. "I have not seen him in some time…"

Corrine gasped, hand to heart. "Oh no! Dear heart, what happened?"

_Pause._ Anne's smile was more of a baring of teeth as it lacked mirth. "He was a bad influence on my daughter."

Shannon turned to her mother, brow furrowed and mouth open as if to speak. Her mother's blue eyes glinted with meaning, speaking volumes that only she could comprehend.

Shannon suddenly recalled a moment from a fuzzy two-day period when she was about nine years old. The wind had carried the soft scent of spring and grass had tickled her barefeet. Her gaze tracked up a trim body dressed in dark, loose clothing, white hair fluttering around his handsome face. He had been gazing at the sun when he spoke. It was the same deep voice.

_There's something in you, kid, something different than my sister. You'll kill for her in an instant. If her role was reversed with mine, I'd use that to see the end of this—but I can see your fate written in your eyes. You'll do it before she believes you're ready to carry the burden. But you yourself will be shocked to learn how easily Death fits into the palm of your hand._

Shannon's hand tingled with the phantom feeling of recoil. She looked down at her empty hand, and knew two things all at once—

One, she had shot a gun that day. It had been her aforementioned mother's brother who had taught her.

Two, her mother's brother was supposed to be dead as far as the world knew…_but he wasn't_.

And then, in that moment, more of her innocence was stripped away.

* * *

He came here every year since it happened, since the world lost her. As he stepped onto the gently tended grass, he felt catapulted back to that moment in Japan when Quatre had emotionally interrupted another famous Yuy twin argument:_ Heero…Relena is dead. _The grief that never really faded rose from the bottom of his heart.

He mingled with the masses, keeping to himself. He exchanged no pleasantries with tourists, partook in none of the Millardo posters or Relena keychains. He was like a shadow, weaving through the crowd with the single-mindedness of a soldier. He paused to hover in front of Relena's final portrait taken on that fateful day. Clad in an elegant pewter pant suit she smiled for the camera and held up a hand in gesture of greeting. Or possibly in farewell.

"I had a feeling I would find you here."

Heero turned at the sound of the familiar voice. The short-haired woman wore an indigo suit that hugged her trim figure perfectly. Her eyes twinkled with welcome, but a hint of grief lurked inside of them.

"Hello, Noin," Heero greeted her. "How are you?"

Lucretzia Noin's mouth curved briefly. "As well as can be expected." She looked around, inhaling. "It never ceases to amaze me how many lives she touches even now, ten years later." She exhaled. "Thank you for coming. If Relena knew she would appreciate your never-ending support."

"She deserves nothing less. She would be proud to see the direction her former projects took. All of her work was not in vain."

"Indeed."

Heero found his gaze drawn to the portrait again. Could she see them now from above, wallowing in grief and remembrance? What he would have given to speak to her one more time… "Do you believe in Heaven?" Heero inquired idly.

"I believe that no matter what happens, I know she's someplace safe." Noin placed a hand on Heero's shoulder. "Till we meet again, Heero." Her hand slipped away, and she moved on to fulfill her duties to the Peacecraft name. Chewing on that last statement, Heero too left the scene.

* * *

Shannon had been quiet since they had disembarked the trolley. Her mother worried. Shannon normally chattered incessantly, and Shannon's lack of speech troubled her more than anything.

Even more than when she lost track of her.

She peered around frantically, scanning the multitude of heads. Heart pounding, she went up to Corrine Spencer who was admiring one of Relena's dresses locked behind glass. "Corrine, have you seen Shannon?"

Corrine pointed in a vague direction that nearly had her gritting her teeth. She found Shannon standing at the enormous gilt-edged portrait of Marticus Rex. Smaller portraits of Millardo and Relena flanked it on the right, and his late wife's image along with the touching picture of Millardo holding a baby Relena. A dark-haired man stood beside her. Before she could go to Shannon's side, she felt a feather-light touch on her shoulder.

She whirled, but she found no one before her. A voice whispered in her ear. _Meet me at the statue._

Her eyes narrowed. She knew that voice. If she liked fighting, she would deck him right then and there. She went to the statue where one of the tour guides gave a recount of the Eve Wars, along with the parts of the Peacecraft siblings, as directed and waited.

"You're foolish for coming here," she snapped quietly when she sensed him near.

"More than you, sister?" he shot back. She didn't dare look at him. "I am not the one who took on the responsibility of parenting an eleven-year-old prodigy. They could kill you without a second thought and no one would be the wiser. Besides, the world already thinks it's lost you."

A flush crept up her face. "I had no other choice. If I refused to come, people would get suspicious. And what about you? They would kill you, too."

"The effort would be considerably more, sister. Believe me." He paused. "If you had allowed me to finish training her, we wouldn't have this problem."

Fury had her whirling to face her older brother. Her eyes were vivid with it. _"I will __**not**__ allow you to turn my daughter into a killer!"_ she hissed.

The people around them shifted in their direction, eyebrows raised in reproach. She was too angry to care. Her brother grabbed her by the arm, apologizing for their rudeness, and steered her to the edge of the crowd. She could see Shannon again; her heart settled marginally.

"You need to face the facts—the world is a dangerous place, even more if those people are allowed to do what they do. Shannon could stop them without blinking if she could perform to her potential."

"Well guess what?" she countered, feeling herself grow more apprehensive the more she was not at her daughter's side. "She's mine, not yours_. I_ determine her destiny. She will not fight if _I_ have anything to do with it." She shook her arm from his grasp. "Now let go of me."

He did, but not without leaving her without one last statement. "When you stop deluding yourself, you will understand whatever is in store for her is out of your control."

With that, he strode away, leaving her to stew. Head pounding with tension, she made her way to her daughter. At that moment, the dark-haired man nodded at her daughter and turned away. At the last moment, Shannon moved away, too, slipping off the sunglasses Nancy had given her and joined some members of her class. He watched Shannon as if seeing her for the first time, frowning.

The man looked startled, handsome, and very familiar.

Her heart stopped for one long moment as her mind switched gears to process what was happening. _It can't be. Today, of all days…_ She suddenly felt the past rushing up to meet her. The torrent had been dammed for so long she almost found herself swept under it. As she succumbed to the pull, she realized she had been.

"Mama!" Shannon exclaimed. She shifted her focus to her daughter's face. "It's almost time to go to the Parlour! Are you coming with us?"

She brushed Shannon's cheek with her hand._ This innocence—I can't let anyone take it away. But I need a moment…_ "I will meet you there. Okay?"

A bit bemused, Shannon nodded. Barely conscious of her own movements, she excused herself and went after the dark-haired man as he went in the opposite direction of her daughter.

* * *

Heero was lucky to find himself alone here. The fans of Relena held candlelight vigils at this spot continuously. He could only guess that Noin had used her influence to keep the mourners at bay to give him his time alone with her.

The bouquet of flowers was always too late, but his heart still insisted upon the offering. He placed the white blooms at the foot of the stone. His fingertips traced the letters etched on its surface.

_Relena Peacecraft / Darlian_

_7 April AC 180_

_26 August AC 198_

_Angel of Peace, May She Forever_

_Rest in Its Gentle Embrace_

As grief overcame him, he lowered his head and wept for the woman he cared deeply for. He wept for the pure heart that was snuffed as easily as a flame was extinguished. So ensconced in his sadness he did not heed the rustle of footsteps over grass until the person was right behind him. Slightly embarrassed, Heero wiped his face with his fingertips and swallowed the lump in his throat.

"I'm sorry," the woman behind him said. "I…didn't mean to intrude. You…" She hesitated. "You loved her didn't you?"

"My feelings are mine and mine alone," Heero responded, feeling horribly exposed. He couldn't even look at this person, whoever it was. "You're a stranger. I couldn't even begin to explain anything to you."

"I know more than you think I do," the woman told him. She stared at the marble bust of Relena topping the tombstone. "I was once loved and revered by many, doing work that fulfilled me and bettered my world. Then someone walked into my life that I had to give it all away to protect because no one else would. Have you ever given it all to protect someone? I bet you have, haven't you?" Heero said nothing. "You tried to protect her, and in the moment she needed it, you weren't there."

"It eats me alive if I let it," Heero whispered. "I couldn't be in two places at once…"

"You shouldn't," the woman advised. "She doesn't blame you."

Heero turned his head and glared at her out of his peripheral. "Stop talking like you know her! There is no way you know how she feels. She's dead. Someone gunned her down in cold blood…" Tears pressed at the back of his eyes and he squeezed them shut. He didn't want to shed his tears in front of this…stranger. He opened his mouth to threaten her, but she spoke instead.

"Sometimes I wonder if it was worth it," the woman murmured. She ached to reach out and touch him even though she knew it was dangerous. "Leaving everyone behind." Her voice name out at nearly a whisper_. "Especially you, Heero."_

The tone her voice had taken resonated inside of him, plucking a chord that vibrated so fast that it left him trembling. Heero rose slowly from his crouching position at the sight of the woman standing before him, mouth parted as if he wanted to speak but couldn't. A balmy breeze from the south fluttered the flowers Heero had laid in front of the tombstone but they were all but forgotten now. Heero's mind was blank with shock, and his body seemed to move on its own, toward her.

"This can't be real," Heero murmured, mostly to himself. "You're a ghost. A figment of my imagination…"

The woman tilted her head. "I am not a ghost, Heero." She held out a slender, unadorned hand. "If you touch me, you will see that I am as real as you are."

Brushing her outstretched hand aside, Heero grabbed the woman roughly by the shoulders and had her gasping. His fear and incomprehension prompted this reaction; if she was indeed real, if she was really alive, then why had he lived through the anguish, the bewilderment? What had been the point? And why had she let him?

"You can't be her because she wouldn't put me through this hell," Heero snapped through clenched teeth. "She wouldn't let me assume she was dead for ten years. The Relena Peacecraft _I _know wouldn't do that." Heero released her gruffly and she fell onto the ground, trembling. "Now who the hell are you?"

"You know who I am, Heero," the woman who was claiming to be Relena responded firmly. "If you would allow me a moment to explain—" She broke off as he drew his gun and pointed it at her. She chuckled ironically and shook her head. "You know, I should have guessed that you would pull a gun on me. Only this time, I'm not going to tell you to kill me. I've had enough of dying to last me the rest of my life." As his eyes watched her every move, she climbed to her feet. She brushed herself off and stood rooted in place.

"If you're really Relena Peacecraft, prove it."

A humming moment passed. When she spoke, her voice was quiet and even. "We last saw each other in Sydney, Australia. You had just come back from a difficult assignment at your new job. You had a scar on your left forearm and you had nearly buzzed your hair completely off. You were exhausted but you still listened to me when I told you my problems. Your last words to me were, _Whatever it is, I know you can overcome it. Good luck, Relena._"

He wished his hand didn't tremble, but the memory of the woman at his feet sitting across from him at a table in Australia rose to the surface. He recalled her face when he had spoken those words. It was the look of a woman who was resolved to make something change.

He lowered the gun until his hand rested at his side.

"I think it's time that we talked, Heero," Relena Peacecraft said.

"It's past time," Heero remarked, and put his gun away.

* * *

_**Author's Note:** The addition to Relena's brother was a last-minute decision, along with the insertion of Noin. I sort of feel like that scene was rushed, but I would love to know what you all think. And don't worry, Danie, Nicole, and them will enter the fray!_


	12. House of Cards

_**Author's Note: **There is not much Danie in this chapter because I wanted to give Relena-now out of the dark, hell yeah!-a chance to tell her story. You finally meet the protective and mysterious Nadia, a character who was inspired by **Lena Olin's** portrayal of **Irina Derevko** on _Alias_. I wanted to create a strong, protective female who could act as mentor for Relena. And Theodore, well, I want to kick him in the balls, too-don't you worry. He'll get his. *evilgrin_

_Everyone else will return in the next chapter, promise! Please read and review!_

* * *

**XI**

"So why are you here?" Heero asked when they were alone on the train.

Relena raised a hand to free her hair from under the unwieldy hat. Her usually golden tresses were a muddy brown. Washable dye, she'd explained. It had been Shannon's idea. Then she removed the sunglasses that had shielded her eyes from everyone before she replied.

"Shannon's history class usually takes a field trip to a historical monument every year before the new term begins," Relena explained. "This year they decided to come to Sanc." She shifted her gaze to the quickly passing scenery shown in the window. Voices of teenagers wafted toward them, reminding them of the innocence on the other side of the wall. "I figured that I had to come to terms with my own demise sometime. Ten years had been long enough."

"Does she know the truth?" Heero wanted to know.

After a moment, Relena nodded and sighed. "I…" She looked at him. "I thought that coming here would end it once and for all. End the clawing restlessness inside of me." She paused and leaned in closer to him. He caught her scent and felt a faint tugging in his heart. "Do you know how it feels to be confined in a facsimile of a life that you had no choice over?"

Heero briefly thought about his marriage. Yes, he knew how that felt. "More than you know, Relena. But I fail to understand how this all happened and how you are still alive while the world thinks you're not."

"It's all because of Shannon," Relena admitted.

At the mention of Shannon, a question arose in Heero's mind. "How did you…?" he started.

As if on cue, a girl bounded into the space, clad in a skirt and a navy blue polo shirt. Relena looked up from her coffee and something in her eyes changed then—Heero saw it. A measure of unease filled those cerulean depths, and it didn't take Heero long to figure out why. Even though there was no wedding ring on Relena's finger, the sudden sight of a strange man would be hard to explain, especially coming from a woman who had spent her adult life trying to make sure no one came after her and her daughter.

"Shannon," Relena began.

Shannon froze at the sound of her name, said with shock and a bit of fear, her face blank with shock. Her eyes, the color indecipherable from where Heero was sitting, switched from her mother to him. Then, without warning, she relaxed into a friendlier stance.

"How do you do?" she asked Heero. "I am Shannon. Pleased to make your acquaintance."

Heero stared at her with slight wonder. It was quite jarring to see a young woman with some of Relena's mannerisms and poise but looked nothing like her. _Yes, they were completely identical,_ he mused, thinking of Abigail Taylor. "Nice to meet you, Shannon," he said softly.

With the formalities out of the way, Shannon loosened a bit and looked to Relena. "Mother, who—?" she attempted.

"Shannon sweetheart, this is an old friend of your father and mine," Relena broke in, cutting off Shannon's question before she could fully ask it. "This is…" Relena trailed off, trying to make a decision.

"Henry Graham," Heero supplied, making it for her. "My name is Henry Graham."

"Oh," Shannon responded as if that wasn't the answer she had been expecting. "Well." She mustered up a smile. "I just wanted to check in."

"Yes sweetheart. Thank you. You may join your friends—but don't stray too far."

Shannon smiled obligingly and didn't protest. She bounded away in that energetic bounce of young girls. Relena sighed when she was gone.

"Thank you," Relena said. "I don't know what to tell her, what not to tell her…"

"You want to protect her. I understand." Heero placed a hand over hers. Her breath hitched. "Well. I suppose I have a story to tell."

"Indeed," Heero murmured, and prepared to listen.

* * *

_A little over ten years ago._

When Relena had first laid eyes on the baby everyone in the Baxley household called Jane, it had been love at first sight. It was ironic to think now that a bit of irresponsibility had landed the baby in her presence, and if Theodore would have had his way, she would have never known about the beautiful toddler with the Elizabeth Taylor eyes until it was too late.

She had been sitting in the drawing room with Nadia and Theodore, who were discussing plans for her impending birthday despite her protests. A nice, comfortable blaze crackled in the fireplace and warded off the chill from the snowy late winter day. Theodore was making himself another scotch on the rocks, and Nadia nibbled on a mix of candied pecans, walnuts, and almonds in a gilt-edged bowl and sent amused glances in Relena's direction whenever he had his back turned or gaze averted. Relena returned those glances in kind, cementing her kinship with the older woman.

Theodore turned away from the bar and faced the women again. Classily clad in a maroon-checked black wool pencil skirt and black turtleneck, Nadia idly uncrossed and recrossed her bare, shapely legs.

"If Relena doesn't want you to make a big deal about it, then I don't think you should," Nadia said. "Besides, it's her birthday, not yours. If I know you, Theodore—and trust me, I can read you like a book—whatever you plan will be gaudy and pretentious as hell."

Relena pressed her lips together to keep from laughing. The truth was, Theodore was rather fond of his wealth, whether he liked to admit it or not. The longer she knew him, the more that particular affection came out. She didn't mind the cushion of money, but at the end of the day, it didn't matter. It was all rather trivial in her opinion.

Theodore raised an eyebrow. "Are you trying to say that I lack any sort of taste?"

Nadia shrugged. She wasn't one to mince words, especially when it came to Theodore Baxley. "You can't help it. You're still a baby by my standards. You like extravagance, things that glitter to catch your easily-swayed attention." She held out a hand to Relena, who sat regally on a leather chaise longue in front of her. The silk dress she wore in a sangria hue was cut to accent her slim figure, and, coupled with sparse gold and pearl jewelry, the outfit made the young woman look older and more refined than her seventeen years. "But this rather…exquisite creature deserves something more meaningful than anything you can think up."

Relena clasped Nadia's hand with her own before Theodore could make a caustic comeback. "I appreciate the compliment, Nadia." Sensing Theodore's discomfort, she rose and turned to him. His face was blank, but frost and storminess were in his hazel eyes. "The truth is, Theodore, I haven't the time to embellish on my birthday this year. I'm scheduled for meetings all over for the next six months. Thank you for thinking of me and wanting to give me something special, but it would be a waste of time if I couldn't be there."

Theodore took a sip of scotch. "Oh nonsense," he demurred. "We'll have a birthday bash for you even if we have to drag every diplomat in the world to it." He nipped at her nose, and Nadia saw something flicker in her eyes. "Let me take care of it, huh? It's what I do."

Nadia sighed, not liking the look she saw in Relena's face. "Baxley…" she began.

"Let's not discuss it anymore," Theodore said in a tone that indicated that he was getting a bit irritated.

"Fine, we won't," Nadia agreed evenly. "In fact, we won't make any plans at all except for whatever Relena wants. It's her day, not yours."

Angry, mottled color rose in Theodore's cheeks. "Nadia—"

Relena shook her head, resuming her role as peacemaker between them. "All right, you two," she chided. "I think we should just change the subject and—" A crash from out in the hallway startled Relena made her break off her sentence. She sucked in a breath and her eyes went a little wide. "What was that?"

Theodore placed his drink aside. "Don't worry about it. I can go find out."

Before either one of them could speak, another crash ensued, but louder and closer this time, followed by the sound of shouts and infantile giggling. Theodore swore viciously under his breath and strode for the closed door.

"Theodore—?" Relena started.

"Stay here," Theodore ordered. He turned the knob on the door, intending to head out to investigate without Nadia or Relena. There was another shout, then, with one thud, Theodore was thrown off of his feet and the drawing room door came flying open. Nadia rose slowly. Relena stepped forward, ready to go to Theodore's aid when their unexpected visitor made her stop in her tracks.

She looked to be almost a year old. Her head was full of silky black hair, and her cherubic cheeks were flushed with exertion. The gap-toothed smile and outstretched arms in her direction made Relena forget all about impossible birthday parties and irksome men. She didn't heed the shouts, the profuse apologies from the people who had been trusted to watch the baby. Relena's world was suddenly filled with the toddling creature that squealed when she laid eyes on her.

"Oh goodness," Relena said breathlessly. "Hi there."

The baby stopped and held her arms out. "Up," she said happily.

Without needing any time to think about it, Relena reached down and hefted the baby onto her hip. Awed as well, Nadia drifted to Relena's side to gaze at the child. The baby reached out and touched Relena's golden mane as if it were a wondrous new sight. It seemed that the instant fondness was mutual.

"She's beautiful," Relena whispered as she brushed a fingertip along her smooth hair-clutching fist then moved to touch the baby's downy hair.

"She's Heaven on Earth," Nadia supplied, voice as smooth as cream but eyes unreadable. Her gaze switched to Theodore, who was applying ice to the now-busted nose that had been no match for the heavy wooden door. "Where did she come from, Theodore? One of your legions of girlfriends? Or was she left on your doorstep?"

* * *

"He later told me that she had been an orphan," Relena continued. "He spun out a story that made her sound like Little Orphan Annie and he was just a regular Daddy Warbucks. I didn't have time to ponder on it since I was traveling quite frequently for the next four or five months."

"And then we saw each other in Australia that July," Heero recalled.

Relena wrapped her hands around the coffee cup and nodded gently. "Yes we did," she murmured. Her eyes met his, and something stirred inside of him. Remembrance bound them to emotions they never explored, moments they never made. As feelings hummed in the air between them, Relena admitted, "It was seeing you that woke me up, Heero. It was talking to you that made me realize that I was wasting my time with Theodore. He used me and my influence. I deserved more than some man thinking he could bend me to his will for his own ill-begotten gains." She looked down at her cup. "And so did Shannon."

Heero studied her for a moment before speaking. "Something changed. What was it?"

Relena lifted her blue-eyed gaze to his face. "One night when I was in his study, I found the papers. The papers told me the truth, that Shannon—or Baby Jane as they referred to her—was nothing more than a test subject. He—along with a few of his powerful friends—were planning to test her skills and use them for their own gain. They operated under the guise of research at the Megaera, but what they were planning to do wasn't for medical science—it was for war. Once she was old enough, she was to be trained to be a contract killer. I should have noticed something odd about her from the moment I laid eyes on her but I…I was so drawn to her that I didn't want to question anything about her existence in my life." She chuckled and shook her head again. "Theodore came in and caught me. We had the most fantastic argument." She covered her mouth with her hand to hide an ironic smile. "Words were slung. Things were thrown. I'm very surprised that his staff didn't call the police. I broke quite a bit of bric-a-brac that night, and I think I threw a blotter and busted his temple open."

Heero couldn't help being a little amused. Cool, calm, and collected Relena incited to anger enough to throw things at someone with the intent to harm? She must have developed a more-than-usual bond to the toddler. He remained silent so that she could finish.

"I'd threatened to call the authorities and have Shannon removed, and in usual fashion he threatened her life. It was a low blow, but he knew it would get to me. So I could do nothing. My hands were tied."

Heero thought of the PDF document that he had been sent one month ago. "Eventually you came up with something."

Relena shook her head. "No. Nadia did."

* * *

_30 July AC 198. Paris, France. _

The opulent bathroom boasted six stalls, soft hand towels, and a plush waiting area that seemed more swanky than functional. Relena never really took much note of that sort of thing; once you had been everywhere and back again, one bathroom wasn't much different than the next. The chatter coming from in front the running basins and the classical music piped in from the ballroom provided the cover they needed for their conversation. Relena had been puzzled when Nadia had whisked her away from sight, an undertone of urgency in her movements.

Not that Relena had minded at first; things had been strained between her and Theodore over the past few months, and she had felt slightly off balance amidst him and his friends. Thankfully, her brother was there to add some measure of comfort, but it wasn't enough. There was something almost sinister in the way he regarded her now, and she couldn't figure out why.

Nadia gave her the answer.

"He's planning to kill you, Relena," Nadia said bluntly.

Flabbergasted, Relena placed a hand on her chest. It was suddenly very hard to breathe in the female-laden space. She had been expecting a storm of name-calling or ribald advice, but that simple revelation threw her off balance.

"What?" she managed. She looked down and shook her head. "But Theodore—"

"Is seething with anger over your discovery of the truth about that child," Nadia finished. She shook her head and grabbed Relena's hands. "You have to understand, Relena, that what Theodore is planning is bigger than you or me. And that poor toddler is in the middle of it. He doesn't intend to give her up without a fight." Nadia paused and studied her. "And as I look at you I can see that you won't either."

Relena inhaled, struggling to breathe normally. When her breathing was under control, she spoke again. "Theodore cannot get away with this unpunished."

"You cannot go up against him, Relena," Nadia said urgently. "He has connections in places that you would never dream of going, friends that are willing to look the other way if he hurts you." Nadia raised a hand to Relena's shoulder. "I cannot allow that to happen. I _will _not."

* * *

"Nadia had approached Millardo about this," Relena continued. "Millardo wanted to harm Theodore before he could get to me, but Nadia told him it would only complicate matters. People would get more suspicious if Theodore was harmed than if something happened to me." She shook her head with a humorless smile. "At first, I didn't believe her. But then…" Relena's mouth trembled. She waved a hand. "Never mind."

Heero wanted to press whatever was bothering Relena, but the need to understand the events that led to her death—faked, as it were—outweighed everything. "So Nadia helped you and Millardo fake your deaths."

Relena nodded. "Why let Theodore do it if someone else could do it first?" She sighed. "So Nadia and Millardo took care of the details. She had some friends in emergency services and in the morgue in Germany. They used corpses matching our physical descriptions, and due to our status, ordered a complete lockout. That meant no one except the coroner and trusted personnel were allowed near the bodies. The autopsy reports were faked, and the police were left to chase their tails. Noin had the bodies cremated."

_I believe that no matter what happens, I know she is someplace safe_. "Was she in on it?"

Her mouth twitched. "My brother wouldn't have it any other way." She allowed herself to smile. "I saw him two years ago. He told me…he was planning to take Theodore down." The smile trembled away. "I told him not to. _But ten years is a long time to forget,_ he told me. And Theodore deserved nothing less for even considering the thought of harming me." Pause. "He isn't wrong."

Heero felt the same, but that was not what concerned him now.

"Who fired the shots?" Relena hesitated then, and leaned back. This time Heero did press. Danie's words were on his mind. _You're…looking…at him…asshole…_ "Relena, who fired the shots that presumably killed you? I assume it wasn't Nadia as she was Warsaw at the time."

"Heero, it's not important," Relena said, anxious. "I'm alive, and the particulars hardly matter—"

"Bullshit," Heero countered fiercely. "Who. Shot. You?"

When she told him, his blood went cold.

* * *

The man in question read the report from his source and cursed. A moment later, a glass hit the wall and shattered.

"Upset, _mon ami_?" asked the observer from his chair.

The man attempted to stifle his anger, but it had reached the point of no returned. "Shut up, Miyori." Miyori raised an eyebrow as his friend picked up the phone and punched in a number. When he got someone on the other line, he said, "I need a plane ticket, please. London, England. One-way."

* * *

And meanwhile, at a table in the adjoining train car, Daniella Thomas, wearing a red wig and wire-rimmed eyeglasses, sipped tea out of a dainty cup with a gun strapped to her inner thigh, her eyes cool and alert. _This ends today._

_._

_._

_._

_._

* * *

_Holy Inner Thigh Gun, Batman! It looks like Danie's out for blood! Stay tuned..._


End file.
